Falling In
by ccac2003
Summary: Brilliant young artist Ella Kennedy returns to her homeland seeking a new life, while rugged, hardworking Beau Wilkes seeks to rebuild his war-torn family home. Will old ties of familial affection lead to passion and love?
1. Days Go By

**1 **

_**Days Go By**_

Only a few azalea bushes were in bloom as the end of May approached, and the long avenue leading up to Twelve Oaks had lost of some of its splendor when the deep magenta blossoms finally wilted. The same held true for the azaleas in the rest of the County, but Ashley Wilkes had always prided himself on his azaleas blooming more robustly and living longer than those of his neighbors. He spent a good deal of time in the gardens these days, transforming what had been a barren patch of ruin into what promised to one day to be a spectacular horticultural showplace.

As he came running down the path which led toward the barns, Ashley paused briefly to examine one of the lingering azaleas, reminding himself to pluck a few of the blossoms for Beau to ride over to Scarlett at Tara. He then remembered his errand, and continued to jog lightly down the cobblestone pathway.

"Beau?" he called as he reached the doorway of the freshly whitewashed building. "Beau, are you in there?"

"Yes, Pa." His son's voice called from the back of the barn. He was grooming his black stallion. "Yes, Pa? What can I do for you?"

Ashley was breathless by the time he reached his son, who smiled at him broadly.

"What's the rush, Pa? Sit down and get your breath."

As Ashley sat down on a large bale of hay opposite his son, he took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped the sweat off of his face.

"Well, Beau. It's that Miss Kathleen Fontaine. She rode over about half an hour or so ago. I told her you were out, but she insisted that she needed to speak with you. Well, you were nowhere to be found, of course, so she said that she'd drop by later to see if you were back at the house." Ashley sighed. "I'm sorry, son, but you how, well, persistent that young lady can be."

Beau laughed. "That's okay, Pa. And yes, I know Kathleen can be persistent when she wants something bad enough. She's got a lot of her Pa in her." Beau gave his stallion a final pat and closed the stall door behind him. "Pa, you'd better tell Dilcey to put out an extra plate for supper. Kathleen usually manages to call right at suppertime."

Ashley nodded understandingly, then turned towards the big house, leaving Beau alone with his thoughts. Kathleen was very beautiful, and at sixteen, very available. And Beau had known her all of her life. As the daughter of his father's good friend Alex Fontaine, it would stand to reason that the two could conceivably find happiness with one another. Her family owned Mimosa, about five miles away from Twelve Oaks. While Mimosa was nowhere as large or as splendid as either Twelve Oaks or Tara, it was a good-sized piece of property, and with Alex's brother Tony in Texas and his stepson Little Joe off in the army, Alex depended on Beau's help in running things more than ever.

Naturally, Alex hoped that Beau would eventually marry his only daughter and take on his property as well. The only problem with that scenario was simple: Beau did not love Kathleen. It was true that he enjoyed her company, and he was happy to serve as her escort to parties and functions that they were both expected to attend; but despite his best efforts to feel otherwise, he could not force himself to love the girl. Kathleen, on the other hand, was very much in love with Beau, and he feared that her long-nursed girlish fantasy was ripening into a very womanly obsession. She had many beaux in the County, but had found no one to suit her as well as Beau.

Beau yawned as he walked into the big house, and took off his broad Panama as he entered the kitchen, where Dilcey was washing the pans. A bronze-skinned half-Indian, she had been his wet-nurse and had devotedly followed his family through thick and thin. Beau gave Dilcey a quick peck on the cheek as he walked through the kitchen.

"Did Pa happen to tell you that we're having company for dinner?"

Dilcey sighed. "Yes suh, Mist' Beau. That fool chile, Miss Kathleen. Honey, I know it ain't none of my business, but I've been with you thirty years, and I feel as if I've been as close as yo' Ma, God rest her soul, but I think you could do better than Miss Kathleen, that's the truth."

Beau smiled at Dilcey. "Dilcey, you know that you've been just like a mother to me, but don't worry yourself over Kathleen. She sees me as some sort of knight in shining armor. That and you know how close Pa is to Mr. Fontaine. Now, I'm going upstairs to say hello to Aunt India, then I'm going need some hot water for a bath. Would you yell up at me when she arrives, please ma'am?"

Dilcey watched as Beau walked up the grand staircase; she did worry about Beau and Kathleen, if only because she knew how deceitful women like that could be!

As Beau relaxed in the big tub, letting the hot water soak the stiffness out of his tired legs, he took a wet washrag and put it over his eyes. Sitting up with a start, he reached for the top of his head, where he had felt something tap. Jerking the rag away from his face, his eyes widened at the sight of Kathleen Fontaine leaning over him.

"Kathleen!" Beau said sharply. "What do you think you're doing? You know that Dilcey would wring my neck and yours if she found you up here. And your Daddy-well-he wouldn't hesitate to shoot me!"

Kathleen smiled mischievously down at Beau. "Not to worry, darling, I came up through the window."

"Turn around," Beau instructed. "And shut your eyes." He jumped out of the tub and grabbed his housecoat, while Kathleen watched with interest from her perch on the side of the tub.

"Why so modest, Beau? After all, I've watched you work with your horses with no shirt on before…"

"That's a little different than accosting a man in his own bath, Kathy," he said sternly.

Kathleen sauntered over to Beau and laid an elegant hand on his shoulder as he toweled dry his curly dark hair. "You could kiss me, then. To show me how much you've missed me."

Beau obliged by giving her a brotherly peck on the cheek, which caused her to purse her lips in a pretty pout.

He then turned her away from him and toward the door firmly and hastily retrieved the pair of trousers he'd doffed and put them on, then pulled a clean white shirt onto his sinewy body.

"What's all this about, Kathy?" he said. "Is everything well with your Pa?"

Kathleen followed Beau to the small mirror and watched with interest as he attempted to tame his unruly mop of hair.

"It is about my Pa, Beau. But I'd rather talk about it after dinner, if it's all the same to you. We can sit out on the porch and look at the stars and have a nice, long talk."

Beau appraised the girl-or was she a woman? Aristocratic Fontaine features coupled with a svelte physique were only a few of her charms. Her black hair was her crowning glory, that and her big brown eyes, which could produce tears at any opportune moment.

"Alright, honey, we'll talk after dinner. But you'd better climb out that window you came in and come in the proper way, lest you get us both in trouble!"

Dinner was exactly how Beau had predicted it would be. He knew that his father and Aunt India couldn't stand Kathleen, and neither could Dilcey, who was glowering as she brought out each course from the kitchen. After dinner, he and Kathleen retired to the veranda to take in the warm spring air.

"You'd best be getting home before dark, honey." Beau said. "C'mon, I'll call for the buggy."

"Oh, just a while longer," she said, languishing in the seat of the porch swing.

Beau knew that he was teetering on a fine line of proper decorum, one that his father had schooled him on since boyhood, but damn, a man could only put up so much resistance, especially when the female in question offered her charms so willingly.

"It's about my Pa," she said finally, her tone slightly more serious. "He's got to go to Atlanta for an operation next week. He could be out of commission for awhile." She sighed, "and I've got all I can handle with the Negroes being lazy and contrary and Mama constantly on my back about getting married." She sighed prettily and looked up into his eyes with her dark brown orbs. "You could help me, Beau. You know how much I love you. And I'd be the perfect wife for you."

"Look," Beau pondered his words carefully, "Kathleen. I care very deeply for your friendship, and that of your father and mother. But honey, I've spent the past ten years just making Twelve Oaks serviceable again. It's a full-time commitment, and frankly my dear, I don't have the time to devote to a wife. You understand that, don't you? I've put everything I am into this place; it's all I have. Now, I can find you a good man to come in while your folks are in Atlanta, and I'll come over myself and look over the books. But that's all I can do."

"But! Don't you want to marry me?"

Did the woman have cotton stuck in her ears?

Beau kissed her hand, chastely, like a brother would. "C'mon. Let me see you home."

After Kathleen had been safely deposited at Mimosa, Beau told his valet to drive on home without him, fancying the walk back home in solitude. As he passed the turn to Tara, he thought for a moment about calling on his Aunt Scarlett. The woman was the epitome of elegance and sophistication, yet she would sit out on the porch with him and discuss business figures and drink a glass or two of brandy. He felt sorry for Scarlett, mainly because she lived all alone at Tara, with the exception of her household staff.

Her sister and brother-in-law had taken their brood of children and relocated to Texas, where Mr. Benteen had kin and the promise of his own property which could be passed to his sons. Wade worked on Wall Street these days, at JP Morgan's bank, and reaped the rich rewards of a career in finance. He had gone off to Harvard and not set foot in Georgia since; Scarlett had had to go to either Philadelphia or New York to see him, and after he married Victoria True, daughter of a Pittsburgh steel tycoon, he hadn't wanted much to do with his mother. Ella, on the other hand, had chosen Europe. At twenty-eight, he knew that she was still unmarried, and supposedly very beautiful, for all that Scarlett called her a bluestocking.

He walked up the long avenue to the freshly painted white brick house, and smiled affectionately as he beheld her sitting on the porch. As he predicted, she had a glass of brandy in her hand.

"I've come calling, Aunt Scarlett. Best fetch a chaperone!" Beau teased.

"Fiddle-dee-dee! Come and sit down. You're out late tonight. What's the matter? Problems with a lady?"

Beau smiled at her as he took a seat on the top porch step. "No Aunt Scarlett, no woman problems to report. It's just that, well, I _do_ find myself lonely, now and again."

"Don't we all?" she replied, her tone clipped.

"It's just that, I feel like something's missing in my life. You know, something! And I'm not sure what it is. It's just a feeling, you know?"

"I know," she said, her voice softening. "You know what I think? I think you need to find yourself a good woman. Yes, Beauregard Wilkes. That's exactly what you need."

Beau yawned. "Well, I guess I'll find one when you find yourself a good man, Aunt Scarlett. You can always marry my Pa. He needs someone to look after him."

"I look after him anyway!"

They both laughed at that; knowing full well that between their joined efforts, Ashley had attained some semblance of peace in his golden years, some bit of the glory of the old days restored for him.

"Well, goodnight, darling." Scarlett kissed his forehead. "This old woman needs to go to bed."

"Never old." Beau kissed her hand. "Never."

"Oh," she said suddenly, "I almost forgot. Ella's coming home tomorrow."

"Excellent!" he said sincerely, "will she be staying awhile? I do hope so. I worry about you out here all alone."

Scarlett shrugged. "No need. I've been alone so long, I wouldn't know what to do with company. But it'll be good to see her. I spent a fortune shipping her paintings across the sea for her; however, she's cleared over five thousand just selling her landscapes. Of course, she uses an assumed name so that buyers will be interested in her work, but still…"

Beau whistled appreciatively. "It'll be good to see her. Come down to Twelve Oaks tomorrow."

"Alright, we'll be there. But don't worry if we miss supper, you know how the railways are, what with the strike and all. She'll be coming from New York, you know; it would be nice if Wade could come too but…" her voice trailed off as she looked at Beau sadly. "Well, I've still got you, haven't I?"

"Yes ma'am." Beau smiled broadly. "You won't be getting rid of me anytime soon. We're neighbors, after all."

"Family," she said firmly. "Goodnight, Beau."

"Goodnight, Aunt Scarlett."

As he watched her reenter the house, his heart filled with sorrow. Gone was the belle of five counties his father recounted in his reminiscences of the old days. The mistress of Tara was a cold, empty shell of a woman. Perhaps Ella could bring some warmth back in her life. He truly hoped so.

Hands in his pockets, Beau set off for home, knowing that he had a big day ahead of him in the morning. After all, the place didn't run itself. As he walked, he ran a list in his head of the many things he had to do…

_**Author's Note – Everyone who is reading my other story, **__**Life So Changed**__**, don't worry, I'm still working diligently on it, but I had this idea and couldn't resist writing it any longer. **_

_**It feels a bit strange for me to be writing about older Scarlett when I've been writing young Scarlett, but we'll see how it goes…Please review and share your thoughts! =) **_


	2. Broken

**2 **

**Broken**

Tara. As Ella Lorena Kennedy breathed in the fresh air, she took off her wide hat and let the golden rays of sunshine kiss her white skin. The proud line of oaks, only saplings when she had said goodbye to Tara almost ten years previous had grown tremendously, and framed the whitewashed house as prettily as any picture. It was so beautiful, this north Georgia country. She had been in the hustle and bustle of the city for so long, she had forgotten how much she had yearned for home, safety, and the red earth of Tara.

As she looked upon the property, a smile crept across her lips. The first smile she had smiled in weeks…

Ella could never have been called beautiful. Her forehead was much too wide and her chin far too pointed to earn her the word, and yet, she was striking in her own way. Heavily fringed hazel eyes were framed by her fashionably square-cut bangs, and her high, sculpted cheekbones had been called by many her best feature. Ella would have normally called those who said such silly fools, for it was her hands that were clearly her greatest asset. Within those hands a mere brush or pencil became an instrument of live-giving proportion, and when applied to a dull canvas, they would somehow render a great work of art as the fruit of their labor. Each completed painting had been a miracle to Ella, so much of herself had she poured into her work. She had been the best in her class, the best in Paris, Madame de la Tour had said that she followed in the footsteps of Monsieur Rembrandt.

That had all been before the accident, of course. Thinking about it still gave her the shudders. She had been in the warehouse district of Paris, sketching portraits of the workingman, thinking in all her pride that she was being a _real_ artist.

She had moved around one of the wagons to get a better view of a small beggar boy, whom she had handed a few coins to better encourage her subject to sit still. She had tilted her head away from the afternoon sun, then glanced toward the sound of rumbling, thudding hooves and wheels of a six-in-hand and wagon. The little beggar boy had clearly not seen, and he was standing stupidly in the middle of the street. He would have been crushed if she did not intervene, so she had sprinted toward him suddenly. She had raced forward, screaming out a warning in French, but the boy just stared at the oncoming team, frozen with fear. Ella had swooped her arms around him, then literally tossed the child to safety. She had tripped in her haste, and raised her arms protectively over her face as the team thudded on-the next instants had felt like an eternity, and the bulk of the horses' weights had crashed into her, sending her reeling with a scream. Vaguely, she remembered being carried to Le Centre Hospitalier, and awakening days later, arms and legs heavily bandaged, with none other than her long-absent stepfather at her side.

"I was in Paris," he said softly. "I heard that there had been an accident involving a female American artist and I had to-check."

"I'm glad you did," she muttered. "But I'll be alright."

"You've broken quite a few bones in your hand. But the doctor doesn't think that it'll be totally useless."

She had thought as much. She had felt the bones crack, heard them snap as easily as one of her charcoal pencils.

"I do believe that I am broken, sir," she observed wryly.

"What will you do, then? You can not continue to support yourself here in Paris, surely. Not in this state, not for some time."

"I've done alright," she replied, examining his face. He was an old man now; he had to be close to seventy. But he was still a striking presence, and he made her feel a little afraid to be alone with him, for all that he was her former stepfather.

"Of that I'm sure." He gave her a slow smile. "You're your mother's daughter through and through. But I have to go, I'm afraid, now that I've seen you awake. Would you like me to wire your mother and tell her about your situation?"

Selfish bastard, she thought, wondering if it would have taken her imminent death for him to subject himself to contacting her mother.

"If you already haven't, then there's no need."

He looked satisfied with himself, as though he had done something truly chivalrous.

"After I leave, you may have need of some financial assistance. Although I have already seen to it that your medical bills are to be sent to me for payment."

"That's unnecessary."

"Oh, no. I'm glad to do it. It's part of my farewell gift, you might say."

"You mean there's more?"

He shrugged. "Are you of a mind to return to Georgia at all?"

"That might be nice. Since you've reminded me that I no longer have use of my drawing hand, perhaps there is another endeavor in which I can make myself useful. And it's been a long time since I've been home."

"Well, I'll certainly provide a ticket for the crossing."

"No," she said sharply. "I've plenty of funds to see me home."

"What of your portfolio? It'll be a fortune to properly package paintings and have them transported across the Atlantic. Well, if you're sure. But just the same, I'll leave the name of the attorney I've hired to handle some of my affairs here. You need only contact him, should you need anything."

"Thank you, but I do not wish to be kept by you or by any other man. I have done well on my own, and I prefer to continue being self-sufficient."

"Damn it, Ella. I just feel obligated-"

"You've done enough," she interrupted. "Thank you for the visit. But you owe me nothing, and I wish to take nothing from you."

Rhett sighed heavily. "You're a stubborn woman, Ella Kennedy."

She glanced at him, and thought that he did look very old indeed. "Take care of yourself, Uncle Rhett…"

Since then, Ella had made a contrived effort to keep her mind off of the fact that she was unable to do that which she loved the most. Again and again she reminded herself that the injury would heal itself eventually, and when it did, she could take up her pencil again and lose herself in her work to her heart's content. At least she still had Tara and a mother to come home to.

"Well?" her petite, raven-haired mother appeared next to her, donning a lavender silk afternoon dress. "Has it changed in ten years?"

"Not so much," Ella replied. "I do believe that Tara is and will always be as constant in actuality as it is in my mind."

Scarlett hunched her shoulders against the cool northerly breeze and stared out over her property as she spoke. "It's taken a lot of work to get it back this way. The barns were all in ashes, the outbuildings empty and rotting. The fields were overgrown and all the weeds needed tilling…"

A long moment passed before Ella said anything, not wanting to interrupt her mother's thoughts while the unquenched anger flashed in her green eyes. That sort of look only came from Scarlett's discussion of two topics, the Yankees and Rhett Butler; and Ella found that her mother was generally in better humor when neither was spoken of or alluded to.

"I'm looking forward in seeing Twelve Oaks again," Ella ventured, taking her mother's arm. "You said that Beau's given you a run for your money?"

Scarlett laughed. "He's trying. Beau is a born planter. Of course, he wants to spend most of his time and energy training horses than doing any actual planting. But he does it, and does it well. I think that he lets out property to twenty or so sharecroppers…that's how he can afford to keep buying and keeping thoroughbreds."

"Why don't you sublet a few plots, Mother?"

"There will be no sharecroppers on Tara!" Her voice came like an explosion from within her chest, and she turned away from her daughter with arms crossed. "You don't understand. Neither you or Wade understand. The land isn't part of you like it is me."

"I understand fine, Mother," Ella soothed. "I just worry about you being overworked, that's all. I'm sure Wade does too."

"Ha! Overworked. Well, as long as I'm not actually picking the cotton I'll be fine. Come on, then. It's nearly suppertime. You'd better wash your face. And change out of those ridiculous britches, please. I'll call Pansy to bring you a basin of hot water."

Ella looked down at her jodhpurs, the height of fashion in Paris. "These are perfectly appropriate for a farm, Mother."

"Uncle Ashley would have a conniption. And I might, too, come to think of it. I had a few nice dresses made for you. They're upstairs. If they don't fit or you don't like them, we can ride into Jonesboro tomorrow and have you measured for some new ones."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mother."

As bidden, she washed her long red-gold hair in the waiting basin, all the while wishing that she had just cropped it short like all the Parisian women were doing. She wrung the water out the mass of hair, then attempted to pull a comb through it. As she worked on the snags, she thought about her Uncle Ashley and his son Beauregard. It had been ten years or more since she had laid eyes on Beau. A good-looking, quiet boy, he'd been leaving for his senior year at the University of Georgia and she had been making ready for her Tour de France.

She was wondering what sort of man he'd become, remembering that her mother had not mentioned a Mrs. Beau Wilkes; suddenly, she thought upon her own failed love affairs. Or could one call them that? There had been Georges Dionne, a brilliant artist who had taught her to convey emotion in the eyes of her portraits. Georges had also been her first kiss, she thought with amusement of her mother's horror if she ever knew that she had kissed a man nearly twenty years her senior.

Then there had been the young British widower who had nearly convinced her to return to London with him. Luckily, she had found out that he was married with three children ere she made that sort of mistake. Oh yes, Ella was no stranger to the wiles of men. It would be good to be around home folks for awhile, and far away from men in general. Men had only left her cold and hurt, and if she wasn't careful, she could end up like her mother: old and cold and hurt.

Hair successfully unsnarled, Ella opened the closet to examine her choices of attire. With a ragged sigh, she ran her fingers over the sleeves of the dresses. Silks, bombazines, taffetas, all. Her mother had spared no expense. But she wasn't here to go to parties. She needed to rest, not be paraded like a lost hoyden newly returned to the fold. Sighing loudly, she selected a plainly adorned ivory afternoon dress made of cashmere and moiré. At least it felt nice against her skin.

As she descended down the staircase, her mother stood waiting for her, and Ella couldn't help but think that she looked like a queen, what with that ostrich feather hat atop her head.

"You look very pretty, Ella," her mother said with approval.

"Thank you, Mother," she replied dutifully. "So do you."

As they walked out of the front door, Ella felt a cool breeze hit her, and it nearly blew her mother's hat off her head and threatened her own coiffure, which she had pinned up rather poorly. "Well, Wilkes's," she chuckled. "Here we come."


	3. Storm

**3**

**Storm**

If not for the silvery color of his hair, Ashley Wilkes could have easily passed for a man ten years his junior. His face was amazingly free of wrinkles, with only a slight appearance of crow's feet at the corners of his drowsy grey eyes. His slender frame was muscular from long hours spent in the Twelve Oaks gardens, a visible testament to the active lifestyle he led, a life devoid of liquor or any other crutch oft sought by men of his age.

At the prospect of entertaining Scarlett and her daughter, Ashley had done a great deal of thinking about his own life, and that of his son, especially the moments for which he reproached himself deeply, when he allowed himself to taste the forbidden fruit Scarlett had so tantalizingly sat before him all those years before. Although he knew that he was only a man, he had always expected honorable behavior out of himself and he lamented sincerely over the times in which he had seriously transgressed the acceptable boundaries of morality. But while he had felt acute shame on the part of himself, he had refused to feel as though he had wronged Rhett Butler or had somehow been responsible for the ruination of Scarlett's third marriage. The fact that the man had left her for good after Melanie's burial had only cemented in Ashley's mind the unsuitability of Butler for Scarlett's hand and bed, and he was well pleased to see the last of him. It had certainly made it easier on Scarlett, even if she was condemned to spend her life alone as a result!

But Ashley had not allowed himself to even dream of inflicting his own failures onto her by asking her to marry him. No, the wounds would have been too raw, too much history there to be blotted out by a few words and a piece of paper. So instead, he had invested all of his energy in raising his only son, who he recognized had not only not inherited his looks but his temperament as well. There would be no mill work for Beau, no hard, cruel laboring over the days' accounting. No, Beau craved the land about as much as Scarlett did, and from his sixteenth birthday forward, Beau had it in his mind to buy back one hundred plus acres of the land around Twelve Oaks and turn it into the grandest property in the County.

What Ashley had not expected was for the boy and his Aunt Scarlett to take a train ride out to the Clayton County Sherriff's office and do just that. With a loan from Scarlett to get him started, Beau had ordered lumber and a crew from Ashley's own mill and proceeded to build his operation from the ground up. The two-horse farm with an adjoining cabin turned into six horses the next year, then twelve the next. The new house came next from the profits, a grand three-story in the Revival style, almost as fine as the one which had graced the top of the hill. Beau had surprised Ashley then, on the occasion of his fiftieth birthday, with an invitation to live permanently at the big house, along with India. Come he did; within a month, the mill was sold back to Scarlett for a goodly sum, India's things were packed and Ashley, his sister, Dilcey, and Dilcey's son Cooper all were loaded onto a train to Jonesboro, where they had remained happily buried for the past few years.

But Beau did, Ashley noted with paternal concern, lack a wife. Not to mention the fact that Twelve Oaks begged for a mistress. His attention returning to Scarlett, Ashley deduced the most practical solution of all: Ella and Beau were a natural match. They had always played well together as children, just as Ashley had with Melanie. He knew Ella to be creative and bright and interesting, not to mention that it would give Scarlett a sense of peace, surely, to know that the future of Tara and Twelve Oaks would be forever secure in the hands of her daughter and his son. Wade would do nothing with Tara but sell it, that much was certain. But how to convince Ella to remain in Georgia long enough to fall in love with Beau? For that matter, how to impress upon Beau the importance of marrying and marrying well? The boy had flatly balked at the idea of a Burr cousin or any of the young ladies in the County. Not that Ashley minded; marrying Kathleen Fontaine wouldn't gain Beau anything but a nervous complaint. To be sure, she was a beauty, but Beau needed someone with substance. And Scarlett's daughter would surely possess that! Even if her father was Frank Kennedy.

Nevertheless, Ashley realized that force would not be a judicious way to broach the matter to his son, no matter how fervently he desired to see it work out. It had been that way for himself and Melanie; she had been like a fresh spring rain to Scarlett's volatile thunderstorm. An apt metaphor, he mused; Scarlett is nothing if not magnificent to behold, yet she can strike the hearts of those who are caught up in her as quick as any lightning bolt and leave them charred and burned.

"Morning, Pa," Beau mumbled, smothering a yawn as he passed through the kitchen door and took a seat at the table.

Ashley's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he faced his son and saw that he was only half-clothed. "You're not dressed, son. You didn't forget that we have company today?"

"No. I've not forgotten. I've got to ride out to the Fontaine's in an hour or so. Apparently Alex isn't well and I need to make some arrangements with him to come over and look after things. As if I haven't enough to do at my own place."

"Well, see that it doesn't take up your entire day. Scarlett said in her note that we could expect them by noon or so. I would like it very much if you were here to greet them."

"Don't worry, Pa. I'm a terrific host, even Auntie India says so, albeit grudgingly."

Ashley nodded. "She's always been rather difficult to please. I suppose she's not going to grace us with her presence this morning. She's never been particularly fond of Scarlett, I shouldn't be surprised if she takes her tea upstairs."

"Well," Beau shrugged. "That's not really much of a loss for us is it? Ha! Ella might get the idea that Aunt India didn't like her."

Ashley smiled as he recognized his opening. "You know, your mother always thought very highly of Ella. I believe that she would like it very much if you made her your wife."

"Pa, I think that Mother would have liked a warty old toad if I said that it made me happy."

Ashley laughed. "Yes, I suppose that's true. Your Mother was very free with her goodwill. But Scarlett, as you know, is not, and I believe that she too would be highly in favor of such a match."

"Have you discussed this with her?" Beau chuckled. "I wonder if she's mentioned it to Ella. Welcome back from Europe, here's a nice husband for you, served medium rare on a silver platter. Enjoy."

"Well, at least you and Scarlett both speak sarcasm," Ashley quipped. "I wonder if Ella has a taste for it as well."

"Maybe she'll take after you and enjoy matchmaking."

"Oh, forget it." Ashley shrugged his shoulders. "Forget I said anything, Beau. But do hurry at the Fontaine place, won't you? I'd like you to show Ella around. She's your old friend, if nothing else."

"I will, Pa. I'll hurry."

"I'm sure that Miss Kathleen will try her best to detain you."

Beau laughed. "Of that I am most sure."

"Well, do be careful, Beau. I know that you do not invite her affections, but I fear that she may seek to entrap you in an unavoidable situation where you will be forced to do the right thing by her…"

"I flat out refused to marry her, Pa. What else must I say?"

"You've done nothing wrong," Ashley ventured cautiously. "I only want to make you aware that it can be difficult, especially when a woman offers herself to you so freely."

It was now Beau's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You sound as if you're speaking from experience."

While Beau remembered various vague allusions to something that had happened between his father and Aunt Scarlett while they were all living in Atlanta before his mother's death, he had always soothed his own curiosity by reminding himself that they were both honorable, respectable people and that any such accusations were the results of hateful, gossiping tongues.

His senses prickling, he asked again. "I know that there's little that you and Aunt Scarlett do not discuss, but surely that is the end of your devotion. That of a brother to his beloved sister?"

With a sigh, Ashley tore his gaze from the window and faced his son. "Yes. But that hasn't always been the case."

Beau said sharply. "While my curiosity is certainly piqued, Pa, I'm not sure that I want to hear about the 'case'. I prefer to let ghosts lie peacefully, and I'd just assume that you consider your warning heeded and that we forget that this conversation ever happened."

His father's skin darkened perceptibly. "Indeed. A good idea. But I must not let you leave with the idea that Aunt Scarlett and I behaved intentionally reprehensibly. We were very young and foolish and we'd been through hell and war and famine and defeat. It was a horrible time, Beau. But know that I never once was intimate with another woman aside from your mother, nor have I since."

Beau couldn't help himself from bursting out laughing, which caused his poor father to cringe.

"God's balls, Pa. I think you're more in need of a woman than I!" With that, the younger man took his leave from the kitchen, leaving his father wiping his face, feeling uniquely unburdened having spoken of the unpleasantness which had cast a shadow over the memories of his married life…

As Ella climbed down from the carriage behind her mother, she felt the slightest twinge of nervousness lingering inside her. She had been eighteen when she had gone off to Europe for her education. How much would they have changed? Furthermore, would they think that she had changed? What she would have given to possess a tenth of her mother's poise…but it had always eluded her. What graceful elegance she possessed existed only within the art that she created, and now, even that was lost to her. Like her own personal _Götterdämmerung, _the world that she had created for herself had been utterly shattered, and it was now up to her to reassert herself as a productive human being. It was too late to attempt to become her mother now, all Ella had was herself. "Oh well," she thought sadly, "it's too late to run away now…"

As she looked over the place, her first thought was that it was much grander than she remembered. It had been a cabin when she had left, with a few outbuildings that sheltered the farm beasts. Now, it was a veritable mansion, bigger than Tara. As she followed her mother up the steps, she noted the high dark clouds rolling in the sky, blocking the sunshine. "Damn," she muttered aloud, "of all the days for a downpour."

Ashley Wilkes was standing at the front door, standing as erectly as his own father once had, kissing her mother on the cheek and smiling brilliantly when Ella herself stuck out her hand for him to shake. She hoped fervently that shaking hands was still in fashion; by the look on her mother's face, it probably wasn't. But Ashley didn't seem to mind, and he escorted them inside with bright eyes, all the while showering Ella with complements and inquiring about the crossing.

"Ah, India," he paused as he beheld a sharp faced woman in black standing on the top of the staircase with arms crossed. "Won't you come down and greet our dear Scarlett, and her daughter?"

Ella's first impression was that India must have been Ashley's mother, so severely was her hair pulled back and so high was the neckline of her black dress. Her skin was so colorless, Ella couldn't even make out any features, but the voice rang loud and clear.

"I'm sure that you mean _your_ dear Scarlett, Ashley. And I prefer to remain up here. I have a novel to finish, so if you could keep your chatter to a minimum…"

"I'm sure that Beau will be back soon," Ashley smiled, "and I know that he'll wish to regale us all to a tour of the stables, and that will leave you in peace, India."

"Yes, we can even eat outside," Scarlett smirked, "that way India doesn't have to suffer my presence any longer than usual."

"Scarlett-" Ashley began.

"Won't that be a nice little trip down memory lane for you?" India goaded. "You can envision yourself as the belle of the County again to your heart's content. Except that you have my brother waiting on you hand and foot this time."

"India!" Ashley said sharply.

"Oh let her run on, Ashley, it's like going to church for her."

"Indeed it is, Scarlett. Of course, if God was truly just it would be you gone instead of poor Melanie. And if you're planning on subjecting my poor nephew to your homely, bluestocking daughter-"

Scarlett smirked. "Says the spinster?"

Ella opened her mouth, affronted by the older woman's blatant insult.

"India!" Ashley shook his head. "Apologize to Ella and Scarlett this instant."

She shook her head. "I will do no such thing. It's my house and I am entitled to do as I please. Now if you'll excuse me." She left in a huff and disappeared into one of the doors, slamming it behind her.

"Her house," Scarlett scoffed. "If you had any backbone at all, Ashley, you'd toss her out on her ear for talking like that. I see she's giving herself all the airs of widowhood still."

"Oh, Scarlett, I am sorry. She's becoming more and more difficult as she ages, but I can't turn her out. After Aunt Pitty passed, she has nowhere else to go except with Honey and her family. It kills her to be around the children, Scarlett, kills her."

Scarlett looked as though that idea didn't bother her much. "Well, I wouldn't have it. Suppose Beau wants to get married one day and she scares off anyone halfway interesting by hovering up there like a vulture."

Ashley rolled his eyes. "On that end, I think that Beau is determined to be a confirmed bachelor."

Scarlett smiled sympathetically. "Well, this one is an _artist_. You know the demand for those, these days."

"Mother, still standing here," Ella reminded, her voice holding a twinge of irritation.

"Well, where is Beau? Out at the stables?"

"Yes," Ella piped up sarcastically, vaguely aware of the front door opening behind her. "Where is this god of a man that I'm out to steal?"

"Hello, Ella. Although I generally go by Beau, God is perfectly acceptable as well."

Taken aback, Ella looked up into the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen. God's nightgown, but she hadn't expected him to turn out so handsome! Caught off guard, she stammered for a satisfactory retort. Managing none, she blurted out, "Hello, Beau. It's me, Ella."

Beau said nothing, merely holding his hand out for Ella to shake, which she did gingerly, then gripped it a little harder lest he think he was grasping a dead fish. Something akin to a bolt of lightning flew through her at his touch, making it nearly impossible for her to let him go. But he wasn't the handsomest man she had ever seen, she attempted to reason inside of her head. He was far too outdoorsy for her taste, what with that uncombed head of hair and that day's growth of beard. She wondered how it would prickle against her skin…Stop it, Ella! She chided herself. It's just Beau, albeit all grown up.

"He can see that, dear." Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"Wicked storm out there," Beau said nonchalantly. "I hope that you two girls aren't thinking of going home any time soon."

"They just arrived, Beau," Ashley replied with a smile. "I'm pleased that your business at the Fontaine's didn't hold you up much."

"No, Pa," Beau returned the grin. "No, it sure didn't."

"I'm happy to hear it," Ashley said, taking a look out the window. "My goodness, what a storm has popped up! I'm afraid India is just going to have to endure us having tea in the parlor."

"We'll be quiet," Scarlett said maliciously, "…enough." "

Shall we?" Beau offered Ella his arm, which she took rather hesitantly.

She had not been around gentlemen for quite some time, and was really quite ignorant of the particulars. Would he pull out her chair for her? If so, was she supposed to allow him to help her sit down? She glanced cluelessly at her mother, who was carrying on animatedly with Ashley and looking happier than Ella was used to seeing her. Sighing, she took Beau's arm and managed to say thank you. Inside, she could feel herself screaming in resistance. She was supposed to be starting a new life, a life of her own. Beau was probably the most eligible bachelor in the County with a slew of women at his feet. And she, like his aunt had so kindly reminded them all, was no substitute for a belle. Not to mention that she was not exactly young. That particular fact, she always set aside as being worthy of consideration tomorrow. And yet, it was a very real issue today. That, and that Beau's big hands, calloused from rough work, were conducive to bolts of lightning whenever they came into contact with her skin. As the storm raged outside, some part of Ella wondered if she was beginning to see an end to the tempest which had overtaken her own life in the past six weeks…


	4. Spin

**4**

**Spin**

As Ella observed the raging storm from the window, she was able to catch the gist of her mother's conversation with her Uncle Ashley; fortunately, none of it concerned her, but she very clearly heard the name of Rhett Butler. Perhaps the old scoundrel had written her mother after all.

"Ella?" a deep manly voice interrupted her eavesdropping.

She turned around suddenly to face Beau, who had entered the room with a glass of brandy in either one of his hands.

"Here," he held out one of the glasses and indicated that she should take it. She did with a shaky hand. Surely ladies didn't drink in the afternoon now! With a quick glance in her mother's direction, she shrugged her shoulders and took the glass from him.

"Here's to you," she said, then took what she hoped was a ladylike sip. "I apologize for taking up so much of your afternoon. I'm sure that you're very busy."

"Not at all. I mean, I am busy, but we couldn't exactly do a lot of work with it storming like this." Beau did not break eye contact, fixing Ella with a hard stare. "I'd be remiss in my duty as a gentleman if I allowed you and your mother to journey home in this weather. Besides, I would love nothing more than to have the pleasure of your company at my dinner table tonight. You must have all sorts to tell us about Paris, and I understand that you're a marvelously talented artist."

Ella sighed, accepting the invitation gracefully but dreading the conversation and the pity it would incite him to feel for her. This was clearly a man who admired women with a skill to their credit, and hers was now lost to her. There was little else to say on the subject.

Beau smiled down at Ella. God, he hadn't been this taken with a woman since his first sweetheart, Jane Hampton. A South Carolina belle, she had come with her parents to Atlanta during one of the booms of the early eighties, and he had been absolutely smitten at first sight. But Jane had died, a month shy of her seventeenth birthday, and he had kept his heart safely guarded ever since.

The kitchen door opened, and Dilcey put a large bronze hand on Beau's shoulder.

"Well, well! Lorda mercy, chile! Miss Ella, you's as pretty as yo' Ma."

"Ella, you remember Dilcey? My Mammy?"

"And yo's for a time, Miss Ella, chile."

"I remember, Dilcey, of course," Ella smiled.

"Dilcey, we'll need two extra plates for dinner, please, so if you'd be so kind?"

Dilcey flashed a broad smile at Ella, then answered, "Yes suh, Mist' Beau," then turned jauntily on her heels back towards the kitchen.

Ella suddenly felt a strange sensation in her bad arm, and her empty glass began to shake in her hand. Beau noticed immediately and walked over to her.

"Are you alright, Ella?"

She felt it run through her again, but she attempted a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. I just seem to have a chill from the rain."

Beau was gentlemanly enough not to remind her that she had not been out in the rain at all, and he walked over to the settee and took the red wool throw in his hands. Ever so gently, he wrapped it around her shoulders, then stopped and touched her cheek with the back of his hand.

"No fever," he declared.

She felt a chill run down her spine. For a moment, he rubbed her arms with his big hands in an attempt to warm her, and for a fleeting moment, she was overcome by a rush of emotion, a feeling of safety and security within those arms. She didn't want him to stop, but he did. Back to reality, she stepped back.

"I'm quite well, thank you,"

"Well, if you're sure. Sit down though. Here, let me take your glass. I'm going to run upstairs and make myself more presentable for dinner. I'll be return directly, just make yourself comfortable. I promise not to leave you alone for too long with the parents when they begin reminiscing."

"I heard that, Beau!" Scarlett's tone was stern, but she smiled at him indulgently. Ella wondered if perhaps her mother loved Beau more than she loved her own son. Beau was certainly more lovable than Wade, that much was certain!

For several seconds she stood still, just watching his broad shoulders, his slender waist, that head of unruly hair…I can't do this, Ella scolded herself internally, I can't go getting all excited over him. But at the moment, Ella found that focusing on anything else was very difficult to do.

Upstairs, Beau walked out of his bedroom in search of Cooper, Dilcey's son and his manservant. The younger man had been in town all day, and Beau hoped sincerely that he hadn't been caught in the storm. But God's balls, what was it about this girl that made it so difficult to think of Cooper or the thousand other things he had to think about? He found himself hurrying just to get back down the stairs to be in her presence. Damn it! The last thing he needed was some woman hanging over him; but deep down, he knew that Scarlett's daughter was different from any woman he'd ever met. A smile crossed his lips, and there was a distinct bounce in his step as he bounced down the stairs.

Ella thought that dinner was lovely, even if her mother did manage to steal all of the attention of both Beau and Uncle Ashley. And Dilcey of course was just the nicest person, one of the last living original Tara servants, and Ella managed to reacquaint herself with the woman in a matter of moments. Ashley even had come around after a few drinks, and Ella listened willingly to an old horse joke that Scarlett casually reminded him that he'd told _last _time they were over for dinner. The storm blown over and their bellies full, Beau rose first from the table and asked Ella if she would do him the honor of joining him on the veranda.

He took her by the arm and whispered in her ear, "Thank you for taking the time to listen to the old man talk. You really did make his day."

Ella was slightly taken aback, having felt no sense of obligation to make civil dinner conversation. The Wilkes's were her people, after all. "Oh Beau, I enjoyed his stories immensely, really I did! I'd be glad to listen all day."

"Would you?" he smiled wryly.

This was it, Ella thought, this was the magical moment in which he would take her in his arms and declare passionate love for her. Not that she was passionately in love with him, mind, but he _was _handsome!

"Perhaps you could-well-this sounds strange, but I'm going to say it anyway. I would be eternally grateful if you would bring your mother by more often. You see, they're both terribly lonely. Scarlett too, even though she'd rather die than admit it."

A wave of disappointment crashed over her. She took a deep breath, then said, "Yes, of course. So, you think that they would be a comfort to one another?"

"Yes, I couldn't have said it better myself. I know that she's not in love with him. I know better to believe that Cupid's arrow can strike twice in one's life, but you know, they might make each other happy."

Ella sighed. "Well, I'll certainly do what I can, but you know how stubborn Mother is. She'd have to agree to a divorce for one thing, you know. I mean, she's had the papers for years but she's never signed them, so legally, she's still married."

"It's a pity he doesn't just die," Beau said coldly. "Maybe then she could enjoy a little peace."

"He's old," Ella shrugged her shoulders, remembering her last encounter with the man. "But I can talk to Mother before I leave. I agree that she's lonely, and I can see that your father is as well."

There was a gleam in Beau's dark eyes. "You're leaving? When?"

So he did care! Ella's face lit up as she looked up at him. "Not right away. I mean, I've just arrived. But I can't stay at Tara forever. There's nothing for me here."

He smiled. "That's what they all say. Of course, I've never found that. There's no place I'd rather be than here."

"It _is _beautiful," she acknowledged, glancing over the handsome property. The rain had stopped completely and the sky was clear, the stars littering the black velvety sky like tiny diamonds. "But I've never fit in here in the County. The time moves too slowly. There's nothing to see, nothing to explore."

"Nothing to see?" he laughed. "You show up for work tomorrow morning and I'll show you what's to see. It's hard work, but it's good work. I bet you whatever you want that I can make you want to stick around if you give me six months."

"Six months?" she looked incredulously at his smiling face. "You're serious? What sort of work would I do?"

"Exercise my horses. Just the mild ones, the mares and the geldings; my stallions won't let anyone but me near them. And let's see, you can help me mend the fence in the south field. You can drive the buggy over to the Fontaine's and do the books. Arithmetic _was_ part of the curriculum at finishing school, I assume?"

She smacked his shoulder playfully. "I didn't go to any finishing school, Beau Wilkes! I went to public school in Atlanta, same as you, and then to the artist colony in Paris."

"So why did you come back, then?" he questioned seriously.

Dread quickly replaced her feeling of excitement. She didn't want to have to relive that accident and its consequences, not tonight at least.

"I suppose I was somewhat homesick," she murmured.

"I understand that." He had a strange look in his eye, perhaps that of approval? "So, what about it, Ella? You want to work with me for a couple of months? See if you have what it takes to become a horsewoman?"

The challenge appealed to her; not to mention that it would give her a reason to see him often. But perhaps he wasn't serious!

"I've had some bad experiences with horses," she said tentatively.

Again, he looked understanding. "Of course, I'm so sorry, I forgot about Bonnie. I know how traumatized you and Wade were when she passed. I know he does not ride to this day because of it."

Guiltily Ella remembered her darling baby sister; it hadn't even crossed her mind. Beau must have sensed her discomfort, as he did not press further.

"I would like to learn. Well, perhaps for a few weeks. It would certainly be a change, and change is healthy, right?"

Beau smiled, "So they say."

In her mind she ran over what she had just agreed to: working on a farm. Although the idea of it wasn't totally unappealing, she was undeniably attracted to him, and she suspected that the feeling was reciprocated somewhat. The last thing she needed was to hurt his feelings, or worse, allow him to hurt hers. But the idea of getting out of the house and doing _something_ with her hands was just too good to turn down. She'd do it, but she'd make one promise to herself: she would not allow herself to fall in love with him. After all, tomorrow would be the first day of her new life, and a man should not be a prerequisite for fulfillment of that new life.

"Well, how about reporting around seven o'clock in the morning and we'll get started," Beau said. "Then we can talk further about our little matchmaking plan."

Matchmaking indeed. That was not incitement enough to get her to be at Twelve Oaks at seven in the morning.

Before she could think up a suitable retort, Ella noticed a buggy careening sharply up the long avenue and almost turning the corner on two wheels. The coattails of the driver were flapping behind him like a madman.

Startled to see his boss and a strange woman on the veranda, the young black man jerked back the reins and nearly lost control of his horse. The animal was foaming at the mouth from the hard drive.

"Hurry boss, hop on. Might want to call for Ma too, if it's all same to you, boss."

"What is it, Coop?" Beau asked with concern, standing up and ready for action. "Ella, this is Cooper, Cooper, this is Miss Ella Kennedy."

"Suh, Ah's sorry to disturb you, but we've gotta go. There's been a bad accident at the rail yard and Ah got stopped by Doc to deliver this here morphine and all the help that's can be found."

"Right, go on in, we'll take your Ma with us," Beau said briskly, "Did Doc happen to tell you what happened, Coop?"

He shook his head, eyes widened. "Yes suh, sho' did. Atlanta train was stopped for repair work and the passengers was getting off for the night. Well suh, so Ah's heard it, another train come in the same time, and the platform collapsed like. So those folkes getting off the Atlanta train got crushed. That's why we's hurryin', boss."

"Was it anyone we know? Anyone from the County?" Ella butted in.

"Well ma'am," Cooper said breathlessly. "Ah's heard that Miss Scarlett's husband was on that Atlanta train."

Ella put a hand over her mouth. "Not Rhett? Captain Rhett Butler, you're sure of it?"

"Ah's heard it from Doc, hisself, ma'am."

"What'll we do, Beau? Suppose he's…" Ella didn't say the word, the insinuation was clear enough.

Beau's mouth formed a thin line. "Well, that puts a different spin on it, doesn't it? Come on, Ella, they'll need every pair of hands, and I don't want to give your Mother news like that without knowing for sure."

"But what 'bout Ma, boss?"

"No time, Coop." He jumped into the rig and swung Ella up into the seat next to him, leaving Cooper to hang tight in the back of the buggy. "Horse make tracks."


	5. Blind

**5**

**Blind**

Beau bent down and rolled the limp form over on the bed, nodding his head in relief as he felt a pulse.

"I didn't think he'd make it. But you've got to keep your mother out of here, you understand?"

Ella turned toward him, her hands shaking. "But it is Mother's house, and he is her husband…"

"I wish we had waited for Cooper to come back with the doctor from Lovejoy before we had Pansy go get Scarlett. I can stand anybody's tears but hers, and I just…I just don't know, Ella."

"His lips are moving!" she cried. "Uncle Rhett? Uncle Rhett? It's me, Ella. I'm here, Uncle Rhett."

She bent down at the side of the bed like a flitting shadow and gestured for Beau to do the same.

Beau was struggling to shift the pillows in a way that would support the blood-soaked legs. His cravat had served as a makeshift tourniquet, but he could see that it would provide only a temporary solution. If the doctor didn't make it soon, he wouldn't have a chance. "We'd better see how bad it is, Ella. If you can hear me, Captain Butler, I'm Beau Wilkes. My mother was a dear friend of yours. I'm just going to see what I can do for you before the doctor arrives, okay?"

Ella thought that she detected a faint glimmer of understanding in Rhett's cloudy dark eyes, and she squeezed his hand tightly. She stood beside Beau as he took the scissors and gently cut through the shredded trouser legs. The cloth was darkly stained, an ominous warning of what lay underneath. Ella attempted to stifle the vomit that lay threatening in her throat. Rhett's entire left leg was greasy wet with fresh blood, the source of which could have been anywhere from his outer hip to his knee.

Beau drew in a deep breath and motioned for her to return to the front of the bed so as not to look any further.

"Bone's gone through the skin." he muttered matter-of-factly. "And there's a piece of metal caught right above it. Tourniquet'll help some, but if the Doc isn't here soon, I don't know what'll happen."

"Ella!" The sound of her stepfather's voice flooded Ella with relief, and she hurried to his side, murmuring a prayer of thanksgiving. He smiled at her for a split second, then his head weakly slumped back onto the pillow and he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Ella's stomach tightened as she fought off a vision of a sheet draped stretcher being carried off to the undertaker. She had seen it happen twice, two horrible deaths, her sister Bonnie's and Beau's own mother's. But Rhett! Even if she didn't necessarily like the man, he was her stepfather and she felt a bit remiss about standing above his sickbed while he had been in the opposite position not so very long ago. Angrily, she pushed both sickening thoughts away, rejecting the possibility with something that her mother had once said when they had learned that he had suffered a heart attack, that Rhett was a cat with at least nine lives in his arsenal.

Still though, she chewed her lip worriedly as she addressed Beau. "What do you think he needs?"

"I think he needs a doctor. I've a fair amount of skill with animals but I'm not qualified for this sort of thing. You saw that platform, how much weight fell on him. It's a miracle his chest wasn't crushed."

"So many people were…" she sensed his meaning, that they should be grateful that he was alive at all.

"I would imagine that the doctor will require some water. And if you have any salves or anything, that might be useful. Maybe a ball of twine and scissors if you can find them so that I can remake this tourniquet."

Ella flew out of the bedroom at his words, glad for something to do. She hurriedly ran out to the cookhouse for a cauldron of water, then back into the house, where she set about making a fire. When it was done, she carried a stack of clean linens upstairs along with her large pan of hot water. When she opened the door to her mother's bedroom, she found that Beau had stripped away the remainder of Rhett's ruined clothes and had tossed them in a heap by the bed. As she entered, Beau pulled a sheet across the older man's bare chest and male parts so as not to offend her or to shock Rhett should he regain consciousness.

"It'll make it easier for the doctor to work on him when he gets here, Beau reassured Ella, who had paused at the doorway with trepidation. Again that same vision of a sheet-covered body lingered in her mind, and she felt like to be sick all over the floor. But then she beheld the lines of worry etched over Beau's handsome face as he worked. Despite his callous remark about Rhett earlier that evening, she had only seen Beau this distressed once before, when he was grieving for his dead mother. She could understand why, of course. Rhett had dominated Beau's own childhood memories as much as he had her own, and as Beau watched the life ebb out of the old man, he was watching his mother die all over again before his eyes.

"He's feverish," Ella pressed her hand on Rhett's forehead, lingering a little to trace over the lines of his face, as though she was fixing his image within her mind.

They both turned towards the open window, the sounds of horses' hooves and carriage wheels thudding then stopping sharply at the front door. "Quickly now, young, man," they heard the firm voice of an elder speak. "Where is the patient?"

"Upstairs, suh!" Cooper replied, his voice laden with the fatigue of two hard rides.

"The doctor." Beau and Ella said simultaneously, then hurried to the stairwell to greet the man.

"I'll sit with him for a while, Ella. Doctors are funny about women about a sickbed, understand? You wait for Aunt Scarlett, and promise me you won't let her come in until I say. Promise?"

"Beau-" she began, gazing up into his eyes. "He's not going to-"

She felt her cheeks grow hot as she realized that her gaze had lingered overlong, but he seemed not to notice, only squeezing her shoulder firmly and staying. "I promise to do whatever I can."

She excused herself without making an introduction to the doctor. It was unnecessary and he needed to tend to Rhett without distraction. She flung the front door wide open and stepped out onto the porch, willing the night air to cool her flaming cheeks. Yet, her fingers still trembled and her stomach still heaved. She saw Ashley's buggy hastening down the avenue only moments later, driven by her mother's foreman, Gus. The black man steadied the two horses, pulling up tightly on the reins before Scarlett could jump out of the rig with them still moving.

"Scarlett, wait!" she heard Ashley implore.

"Rhett!" Scarlett cried, her eyes probing the darkness as they found Ella standing there.

"Rhett!" The whisper came out like a pained scream. She tried to move past Ella, but Ashley caught her by the wrists. She tried to fight him for a moment, twisting and writhing.

"I want to go to him!"

"Be still, Scarlett," Ashley urged her, then looked turned to Ella. "What news? Is Beau still at the station?"

"No," Ella replied. "He's upstairs with the doctor. They're working on him."

"Tell me everything that happened," Scarlett demanded in a hoarse whisper.

Ella sighed. "Well, the moment we arrived, Beau jumped down and immediately began to assist the doctor. Cooper and I found Uncle Rhett first, oh Mother, I couldn't stand it. I went straight for the nearest bushes to vomit."

Scarlett put a hand over her mouth as though that very thing was close at hand for her as well, but she motioned for Ella to continue.

"God, what a mess his legs were in. There was blood, Mother, blood everywhere."

Her eyes were wide and her face ashen. Scarlett said nothing, merely bobbing her head in response.

"Well, it seemed like hours before they started pulling the survivors out of the rubble, and Beau insisted on loading him up on his own buggy and riding to the doctor's office. But with so many there, the doctor recommended that we bring him here. That was-alright? Was it, Mother? I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing," Scarlett said softly. "Let go of me, Ashley. I'm not going to disturb the doctor."

The three of them sat down on the porch, watching dawn creep slowly over the horizon, the young girl between the two elders, drinking coffee prepared by Scarlett's maid and talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Beau!" Scarlett stood up suddenly. "What's happening in there? Can we go in?"

Beau had emerged from the front door, his own face devoid of all color. He shook his head. "Now that he's gotten the bleeding and the pain abated, Doc said that it could be hours worth of surgery. He'll have to take his left leg off at the knee and stitch up the other."

"But-" Scarlett looked stricken. "Rhett?" Her eyes darted from Beau to Ella to Ashley then back to Beau, as though she expected one of them to yell 'April Fools' at any moment. But none came.

"I want to go in. I want to see him, and Ella does as well," Scarlett demanded.

"He's had a lot of morphine, Aunt Scarlett. He most likely won't know its you, and even if he did, do you think it'd be good for him to see you getting all upset?"

"He's an old man, Beau. What if he doesn't…if he should…and I never….I must see him Beau. Please."

"Go on up," Beau nodded. "Doc was going to let him rest a spell. But please, Aunt Scarlett, don't cry."

Scarlett seemed to choke on the sobs that were welling up inside of her throat, but she whirled past him and flew to the door, flinging it wide and marching up the steps, her countenance stony.

"I doubt if there are any tears left in her," Ashley mused. "Scarlett's had to endure things that would have killed most grown men. And she's endured them alone."

"He's bad off, Pa. I was trying to protect her from seeing him that way."

Ashley shrugged. "She's not seen him at all in at least three or four years, Beau. Besides, it's not your place to decide such a thing. No matter what you think of the man, she cares very deeply for him. Don't argue with me." The older man raised a hand, imploring for silence from the two young people. "Now, I'm going inside to make myself a cup of tea."

With that, he disappeared into the house, shutting the front door behind him and leaving Ella standing face to face with Beau.

Closing her eyes, Ella stayed carefully still, willing herself to be standing anywhere than where she was this moment. Had it only been eight hours before that she had sat with Beau on the veranda at Twelve Oaks and marveled at his good looks?

Beau reached to dab at the small, red trickle of blood that had formed on Ella's bottom lip where she had bitten down on it, and she ducked away instinctively, startled.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "You had blood on your lip and I was concerned."

She placed a finger on the spot and attempted to dab it away, embarrassed. "It was my own doing. A nervous habit from childhood."

He looked sympathetic, again, filled with that pitying gaze that she hated to see directed at her.

"You were so quiet as a child. I remember trying to get you to play with Wade and I, but you spurned us for your dolls and your drawing pencils."

She laughed wryly. "Spurned you? No. I'm quite sure that I was just a shy, awkward child. Besides, Wade always wanted me to play the Yankees while you were General Lee and he was General Jackson."

"No, no, Miss Kennedy, I must correct you. Wade was General Pickett. You know, fancy cavalry officer. No sense. Passion for gallant, nonsensical charges. Sound about right?"

She had to smirk at that. "Poor Wade. It wasn't easy for him either, I suppose. But I should write to him. He would like to know if Uncle Rhett…if he…" Ella's voice trailed off as tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. Before she realized what was happening, Beau had gathered her in his arms and she was sobbing her heart out onto his shoulder.

"It's alright, Ella. It's alright, darling."

Through her tears, she heard the endearment, and it rattled her again. Involuntarily, she shivered, and felt him pull her even closer to him, his hot breath close to her face. He kissed her on the forehead, then wiped away the tears from her pale cheeks with his hand. She felt her heart skip at least one beat, if not more.

"Can we sit down, Beau?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Taking her arm, he guided her to the porch steps and sat down next to her. "What is it, Ella?"

She cleared her throat and again wiped her eyes, making certain that they were completely dry. "Beau, I apologize if you are offended by what I am about to say, but I want to make it perfectly clear that I have no intention of playing the belle of the County. You've been nothing but a gentleman, and extraordinarily kind, but I know how people talk. I know how people talked about Mother, for that matter. I just want you to know that."

"A minor point at a moment like this," he sighed, then looked into her eyes, his own face filled with concern. "If I have overstepped myself, then it is I who should be apologizing to you."

"Oh Beau, that's not how I feel. You could not have been more-" she paused before she completely contradicted her previous statement. "It's just that, well, I've always done rather well for myself without any men in my life. I am not some fortune-seeker or an old maid looking desperately for a husband. You understand, don't you?"

Beau's face was unreadable, and for a moment, she thought that she'd truly made him angry.

"I understand you perfectly," he said, putting a small smile on his face.

"Ella! Beau!" Ashley's voice rang out from inside the house and both of them burst inside without a moment's hesitation.

"Ella, Rhett's awake and would like to see you," Ashley said softly.

She nodded, looking at Beau one last time, then spinning on her heel and hastening up the staircase.

Ashley was shrewd enough to notice how his son's gaze moved over the retreating figure, her gown a simple print of ivory-colored moiré, as she walked up the staircase and entered the bedroom. Not wanting to confront the boy directly, he said softly, "I'm glad that Ella is here, for Scarlett."

"I'm glad too," Beau muttered.

"She's very lovely," Ashley ventured.

"Oh yes," Beau sighed wearily. "But very difficult to understand."

Ashley nodded. "Indeed, very like her mother. But take note. Absolute loyalty to the man she loves. What you have just witnessed is what that looks like."

"What's that, Pa?"

"Love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit…"

"Don't quote Shakespeare at me, Pa, I see your meaning. I know how hard it is to lose the people you love. I've been there, remember?"

Ashley said nothing else as his son stalked out the door and sat back down on the porch steps, hand in his hands. His own heart went out to him-and to Ella. He had eyes, after all. He could see that they were quickly getting caught up into something that could not be easily cooled…and now this! Once again, Rhett Butler had come between him and his dreams. Once he had wished the man well, and had sincerely hoped for a life of happiness for him and Scarlett. Now, Ashley only wished the man would die and get it over with quickly.


	6. Learn You Inside Out

**6**

**Learn You Inside Out**

The morning's wind seemed to have died away and the sky had settled into a sultry hue of grey when Ella finally resettled herself in a chair outside of Rhett's bedroom and raised her head slowly in an effort to abate the stiffness in her neck. From the sound of his low moans, she could deduce that the morphine had worn off, and at present, Scarlett was sitting on the bed holding his hand. Her mother had refused to hear any of their pleas for her to get some sleep and the doctor had finally acquiesced to the fact that Mrs. Butler was staying whether he liked it or not. Having seized dictatorial authority, Scarlett had thrust a finger toward the door when the doctor had offered his opinion that Rhett would not make it through the night if he did not amputate Rhett's shattered left leg, screaming that she knew Rhett Butler better than anyone alive and that Rhett Butler would rather die than be maimed thus. The doctor had been visibly shaken by the expression of such rage, so with great trepidation, he hovered in the corner of the bedroom and issued orders to the servants to fetch this or that. Ella got up from her chair and poked her head into the bedroom, noticing that the doctor was administering another dose of morphine. Hopefully it would render him unconscious again; his screams were heart wrenching.

"Scarlett." Ella saw Rhett's dry, cracked lips form her name. "Scarlett."

"I'm here, Rhett," Scarlett whispered, drawing his hand up to her lips. "I'm right here, darling. And I won't leave. I promise."

Rhett's eyes fluttered shut as the medicine did its work, and the doctor quietly returned to his post, casting weary eyes upon his patient's hawkeyed wife.

"I think that you should get some sleep, Mother," Ella tried again hesitantly.

She looked at her mother's smooth white face, madly calm, sitting on the bed wearing a blank expression because she could not understand how this could have happened to someone who had traveled the four corners of the earth on a regular basis. How could he succumb to this, a freak accident at the tiny Jonesboro depot?

"I've killed him," she said softly.

"You did not kill him," Ella snapped. "He's not dead, Mother. It was an accident, Mother, you neither caused it nor could you have prevented it."

"I didn't mean it that way. I killed him long ago. He had the misfortune to fall in love with a woman who was in love with another man, who had kept her real heart from him for years, so that when he took care of her there was nothing for him and her-no life, no real family of his own, nothing but her own blissful state of solitude. So every single day he woke up and waited for me to see him-me, who had nothing to offer him in the first place. Every day, there was only me, my foolishness, the subsequent loneliness-and he left me because there was no other alternative for him. He had the misfortune of falling in love with me, being drawn into my web. I killed him with my secrets and my shame. I killed him a long, long time ago."

"No," Ella said firmly, "no, no, no."

"I suffered too," Scarlett continued. "But not as much as him."

"You're making it up to him now."

"What, by watching him suffer? I've been causing him mental anguish for years, why not physical?"

"You're tired, Mother, you're not making any sense."

Scarlett looked at her daughter sadly. "You wouldn't understand, Ella. You've never been in love."

Ella drew a sharp breath at her mother's words. She had never been in love, yes. But she knew what love _was_. She knew that she had loved her work, her independence, her freedom. But still, the insinuation that she was lacking in something so fundamental, so basic…

"He looks so peaceful when he sleeps," Scarlett said, stroking his face. "Like a picture. Almost like the one I keep by my bed. We were in New Orleans then. I look at it every night." She continued to stare at Rhett as she spoke. "He was so full of life then. He looked so handsome, just like he does now."

"Mother, I'm sorry."

"But he'll get better. You'll see."

"Mother, you have to move on."

Scarlett looked hurt. "Move on? Whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Rhett would want you to, I'm sure of that. He loved nothing more than living life, that's why he's-"

"No." Scarlett interjected. "He _loves_ me. And he came back to me. Like I knew he would."

"Mother, he's not…he didn't-"

"Leave us alone, Ella. I need to be alone with him."

Ella nodded silently and walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. Blinded by the hot tears forming in her eyes, she continued through the hallway and down the stairs, thinking of all the things she should have said to her Mother.

She was glad to see Ashley sitting in the dining room reading his newspaper and asked him where Beau had gone off to.

"Oh," he said with surprise. "I imagine he's back home. There was little for him to do here but wait, after all."

"You should go home too," Ella said heavily. "I can barely stand it myself."

Ashley said thoughtfully, "That's because you are young, Ella. And being around the old and the dying only drains you of your youth. That's what I like to tell myself at least. When I feel a hundred years old, I can remind myself that it's because I survived the war and all its atrocities. You're young. You have no such memories. As such, you should not be forced to endure this sort of thing."

"He's not dying, Uncle Ashley. He can't be. It'll kill Mother and then I'll be…stuck."

"I can assure you that Scarlett does not need you to take care of her."

"You didn't see her up there, she depends on him. Oh, I know he's barely been in her life since they separated, but still! She's so used to the idea of him, but when he's gone, he's gone. And she never moved on from it all, and now he's dying and I'll have to live with her and I just can't stand being here!"

He shook his head, like a parent disappointed in something his child had done, and stood up and walked into the parlor with a frown on his face.

Ella was so upset that she fled to the porch sobbing, narrowly avoiding running smack into Beau, who was carrying a bouquet of fresh flowers.

"For Aunt Scarlett," he said quickly, so as not to give her the wrong impression. "What is it, he's not worse, is he?"

Ella shook her head and sat down on the porch steps and explained what had happened. Beau said nothing, allowing her to continue to defend herself and her opinions. "It's bad enough that she has to stay here by herself for almost twenty years while he travels the world and drinks champagne and courts foreign women," she said, "but to come back here! And now this, making her nurse him while he lingers on the verge of death, it's cruel!"

"I'm not defending him," Beau said softly, "but he did not choose what happened to him. I'm quite sure that he didn't make that platform fall."

"But why was he _here_? Why not a platform in Paris or New York?"

Beau shrugged. "Chance. Fate. Whatever you want to call it, I suppose."

"I don't believe in fate," Ella spat. "I think that this family is cursed, that's what I think. And I think that I inherited my fair share of it. I escaped from it, got a chance to be away from it all. But it caught up with me in the end. Since the accident it's started up again, then Rhett's visit, and then this. And I'm trapped, Beau, trapped. And there's no light at the end of it. Nothing."

"So, that's why you came back home? You had an accident, didn't you?"

She nodded, and held up her left hand for him to see. "The bones aren't broken, but its swollen, see? The doctor called it something different, I'm not sure about the English translation, but whatever gives it feeling, it's gone. I can't paint. I can't even hold onto a pencil."

His clear dark eyes fixed upon her. "What about the other hand?"

She snapped. "You think I can just teach myself how to use the other one? That I can snap my fingers and it'll all be alright again?"

"I never said that it would be easy."

"Well I can't, Beau, I can't!"

"Well, why did you come back then? If not to relearn your craft, then what? Surely you didn't think about how nice it could be-the two of you together in that house-considering how well you get along, how considerate she is, how similar your lives are."

"Of course not but-"

"I realize that your heart is like a little ship looking for a safe harbor in which to rest. I understand how you've developed all sorts of skills independent of your mother and how you are loath to allow any human being to encroach upon that freedom. I suppose even too that you feel needed here now, trapped even, but darling, get a grip! Scarlett likes her space, her boundaries. She will never allow herself to become dependent upon you."

Horrified by his words, she knew of only one response. She took off running towards the pine woods, tears streaming down her face. She could hear his footsteps behind her, so she broke into a run. Her vision so obscured by her tears, she managed to miss a large stump in front of her, and went tumbling to the ground in a heap. She felt hot blood running from her arm and saw the source of it, rolling her eyes at her town dress sleeve. She forced herself to stand up and tried once again to regain her speed, she would run anywhere, anywhere away from this place. The pain in her arm numbed as she reached the pine trees, the needles pricking her face as she ran through them. Her feet hit the ground so hard she wasn't aware that she had even fallen for a few seconds, until she heard him coming once again from behind. Strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up and pulled her close. In the warmth of his arms, she fell into a dead faint.

Beau, for his part, took in the sight before him. Her creamy skin was blotched with tears and with little cuts from the trees, and her hair was unpinned and disheveled as though she had just risen from her bed. The buttons of her dress were undone to her chest, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her heaving bosom. Beau removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shaking form. He then gently held her in his arms for several minutes, feeling the pleasant sensation of her leaning against the warm embrace of his body. God, but she was beautiful.

Beau leaned down and kissed her lips, a soft and gentle kiss, which seemed to awake something inside of her, some long-subdued hunger deep within her, and she turned her face up toward his and closed her eyes.

He kissed her eyelids, then her nose. Then again, he kissed her lips once more, his kiss this time one of urgent need. Ella felt her senses weakening. She had been kissed before, but being held by Beau aroused something inside of her that she had never felt before.

"My beautiful Ella. My strong, brave, beautiful Ella. I want you more than anything. Can you see that? Can you feel that?" Beau murmured. "Tell me how you feel, Ella? Do you need me like I need you? Can you let me in? Tell me, Ella. I beg you. Tell me to stop and I will. But be honest with yourself, Ella."

"Oh, Beau," Ella ran her fingers through Beau's thick curly hair. "What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me? You must let me go, you mustn't hold me like that!"

Beau touched her lips with his index finger, silencing her protests.

"What is it that you're so afraid of?"

Ella sighed. "I'm afraid to love anyone. You don't understand, Beau, your parents were so incandescently happy with one another. You didn't have to hear your parents half kill one another or watch your baby sister die and your mother call your father a murderer. You didn't have to grow up with the stigma of estranged parents. You didn't have to grow up with the knowledge that you were never-wanted. Mother resented me for so long, for not being Bonnie, for not belonging to Rhett. Can you understand that, Beau? You can't, can you? And you wonder why I can't love anyone?"

"You can't, or you won't?"

"I've tried, believe me. But every time I let my guard down I end up getting hurt. I could give myself to you here and now and not have any regrets, but I'm frightened. What will happen when you're tired of me?"

He sighed heavily. "I can't take back the things you've endured. I can't make you trust me. But I can offer you myself. I'm not a fancy man like my Pa. I shoot straight and I tell things like they are. I can tell you this, Ella Kennedy, in my entire life, I have not touched a woman who didn't ask me to. But I am damn close now. I wanted this from the moment I saw you at Twelve Oaks. And when you opened your mouth I only wanted you more, you understand? The more I know you the harder I fall. Inside and out, Ella, you are the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I've known you my entire life."

He sighed thickly and slowly began kissing her on the neck. His hands moved gently lower to the her torn neckline and he moved his lips downward to her white chest. Hands shaking, Ella moved to the buttons on Beau's shirt. Her mother's words ringing in her ears, something wild in her awakened, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his flesh against her own. As Beau's lips lingered on her firm, round breasts, an all encompassing warmth spread throughout Ella's body. She needed him, wanted him. He kissed her breasts again, then moved his hands downward over her stomach, lower and lower until she could stand no more. "Beau, I need you. Now, please. "

Beau smiled at her, laughter shining in his eyes. "So polite, my dear. But not just yet. I won't have you thinking I'm not a gentleman."

"I'll think even less of you if you leave me in this state. Please, Beau, please."

"I promise to take you to the stars," he whispered huskily into her ear, "but not here. Not now. Not like this. You would hate me for it."

"How could I hate you?"

"Mist' Beau?" Cooper's voice interrupted the them, causing Ella to jerk back into reality as though she'd been splashed with a bucket of cold water. Hurriedly adjusting her torn dress, Beau turned toward the sound of the voice and called out, "Coop? What the hell do you need?"

"Sorry boss. Miz Scarlett done take and sent me for you. Ah reckon Mist' Rhett might just come outta this, boss. He ain't outta der woods yet, but he better, suh."

"Thanks, Coop. We'll be right up to the house."

"Ah's worried you and Miz Ella got lost in them piney woods."

Ella blushed furiously and Beau flashed her a devilish grin. "No worries, Coop. Tell Miss Scarlett I'll have her daughter back up directly."

"Yes suh," Cooper called from the edge of the pinewoods. "Ah's goin', boss."

"Good man, Cooper," Beau smiled down at Ella, who was holding her dress up for dear life.

"Do you think he knows?"

"Absolutely. We've known each other since we both suckled at Dilcey's breast."

"Marvelous," she sighed. "What are we doing, Beau?"

He kissed her gently on the lips. "Living life. You know, perhaps you might want to rethink your statement about Fate."

"I'm still unconvinced. But not about my family curse. We tend to destroy each other, one way or another."

"Such pessimism, my darling Ella. But I realize your history, so I am at an advantage over any other man you might take as a lover. I know that Scarlett and Rhett brought a number of their demons upon themselves. And I know that you and Wade suffered terribly in the crossfire. Everyone around them was affected. Even Pa. Even me."

"And yet she waited…"

"I guess she knew that he'd come back in the end."

"Or she just figured he'd be tired of running after awhile."

"Always looking for the worst, my dear. I guess that I'll have to get used to that. It can't have been easy for your mother you know, being alive. Alone here, all these years. Growing older and coming to the realization that not only is she completely alone, but that she has nothing to live for. Save for Rhett, and the hope that he'll return to her one of these days."

"Make a note then that I am a realist," she said sarcastically. "I love my mother dearly, Beau, but she is fundamentally selfish and I have no intention of changing my opinion on that subject."

"I will note your inclination toward realism. I also promise to learn every other part of you, inside and out."

They were silent then, as they walked toward the whitewashed house. Ella's heart was beating fast, an ominous feeling growing within her chest. Something was wrong, the house was too quiet.

"Why is it so quiet? Look at the sky. The wind. I have a bad feeling, Beau, about going up there. It's like the bad fall…"

"Bad fall?"

"The fall of 1873. Funerals, funerals, funerals. It was in rapid succession, Bonnie, Aunt Melly, then Mammy. It was a nightmare. You remember it, don't you?"

"I don't dwell on it," he said softly. "I suppose that being here reminds you of them-the people who aren't here?"

"I hardly know," she sighed, then began the long walk back to the house, leaving him standing at the edge of the tree line.

_**Author's Note – This was a really emotional chapter to write, just thinking about my relationship with my own parents (who are largely estranged from one another)...Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! Feel free to review and share your thoughts! **_


	7. First Time

**7**

**First Time**

It was a swiftly fleeting hand of time that swept the days of the month past, speeding on the hours that consisted of Rhett's slow but sure recovery. As Ella contemplated leaving the cozy comfort of her bed one cool summer morning, she quickly felt herself grow warm with the memories of the past month. She had hardly seen Beau, who was doubly busy with the responsibilities of running Twelve Oaks and managing nearby Mimosa for its ailing owner, Mr. Fontaine; but when he had come calling, he made up for lost time. For hours they had sat on the porch, she in his arms, answering his kisses and caresses with ones of her own. Then they would talk quietly about intimate things and shared remembrances of childhood. And Ella, to her arch surprise, was falling even more deeply in love with the man, despite her personal pride and prejudices which had always guarded her heart.

Retrieving her gown from the floor, she slipped it hastily over her head and donned her robe. As her feet skipped lightly down the stairs, she stopped suddenly halfway through her descent of them, halting in surprise.

"Uncle Rhett! Whatever are you doing downstairs?"

The man who met her gaze was hardly the well-dressed, well-groomed man who had visited her in the hospital. His face bore several weeks worth of beard growth, and a long dressing robe hung in loose folds to his ankles. His black eyes were bloodshot and puffy and his mouth was contorted in a frown as he braced himself up on a black cane.

"No amount of cajoling would keep him bedridden any longer," her mother smirked, hands on her hips.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear him, Ella, he was restless through the night and decided to go for a walk. Well, no sooner had he gotten out of bed, he started to fall headlong down the steps-"

"Tripped," he corrected. "I tripped on a loose strip of carpet on your infernal staircase. I've given you enough money over years to fix this white elephant and you can't even fasten the carpet down on the damn stairs."

Scarlett rolled her eyes, urging him to sit down in the wing chair she had pulled out of the study.

"Well, he would have fallen from top to bottom had he not managed to grasp the handrail. You should have seen the bruise on his thigh when I found him."

"She then proceeded to undress me in the hall. It was quite degrading," Rhett fussed, then turned toward his wife. "Of course, I returned the favor."

"Rhett!" Scarlett smacked his arm, glancing pointedly at Ella, whose own eyes were widening with pleasured surprise as she recognized his meaning. A glance at her mother's face, flushed with pleasure, told her what she already had suspected.

Not too long ago, there had been a time when Scarlett would have torn the heart out of anyone who would have dared to suggest that Rhett still lingered in her heart. But to look at her now, he seemed the epicenter of her very being. And he, he seemed to revel in the attention. He had been patient since his injury, allowing Scarlett to dote on him so.

"She didn't complain when I began to remove her gown. Naughty girl." Rhett winked at Ella, who hesitantly met her mother's gaze and conveyed apology for any intrusion in her eyes.

She had interrupted a very intimate moment between her parents, and she certainly had no desire to interfere in their happiness. Arms akimbo, she murmured her excuses and walked past them and into the kitchen, where Pansy was fixing a breakfast fit for a king.

"Ain't it excitin', Miss Ella?" Pansy smiled grandly, offering her younger mistress a plate piled high with piping hot bacon. The middle-aged woman had began her tenure as Scarlett Butler's maid quite wearily, but Ella she had always idolized, considering her as lovely and delicate as a china doll, something to be treasured and handled with care.

"Mist' Rhett's gwine live here at Tara, then your Ma, she ain't gwine be lonely no more. It'll be grand then, Miss Ella. And Ah's 'spect we's gwine be havin' a weddin' for the year's out."

"A wedding?" Ella bit into a piece of bacon. "Who's?"

"Why! Ah's talkin' 'bout you and Mist' Beau Wilkes. Ah's got ter be deaf and dumb iffen Ah didn't see how sweet on you he is."

"If I may quote my illustrious mother, _fiddle-dee-dee_, Pansy," Ella grinned. "And if I may remind you, Mister Beau Wilkes hasn't been near me all week. He's been busy over at the Fontaine place looking at stallions for breeding."

"Ah's 'spect that ain't all he's over there for," Pansy frowned. "Now, Ah's just sayin', Miss Ella, you's better grab him while you's still got your purty face and figure. Else dat Miss Kathleen Fontaine gwine sink her claws in him."

"Who the devil is Kathleen Fontaine?" Ella's heart began to pound unconsciously.

"Mist' Alex's daughter. Purty young thing 'bout sixteen years."

Sixteen, Ella thought. Young enough to be her child. Surely not!

"Well, he can hang around her all he wants. We have no understanding between the two of us."

Pansy sighed. "Ah's didn't tell you 'bout Miss Kathleen to make you mad, chile. Ah's just tellin' you so's you know. Mist' Beau's takin' a shine ter you, chile. I just don't want you ter miss out."

"Well thank you for telling me, Pansy. You're mighty sweet. But I must say, call me old fashioned, but I do believe that it's his turn to call. I rode over to Twelve Oaks last week to visit Uncle Ashley and I left a message with him that I said hello. That was quite enough."

"Iffen you says so, chile," Pansy looked doubtful, then returned her attention to the dough she was kneading. After a few moments of silence, she dropped her rolling pin with a start.

"Ah's guessin' them free issue niggers is too lazy to answer dat door."

"Oh!" Ella jumped up from her plate of breakfast. "The door, of course. I assumed it was Mother and Rhett."

"Ah's 'spectin' they's in Miss Scarlett's office."

"Doubtful. There's no bed in the office," Ella muttered sarcastically.

"Der's a desk," Pansy said puckishly, then began to chuckle loudly. "You gwine get that door, chile?"

"Right!" Ella bounded to the front door and flung it open. "Why Beau Wilkes, what a surprise-and whatever have you-oh!"

In Beau's arms rested a huge St. Bernard puppy.

"Good morning, Ella. This is Duke, and I'm afraid that he's in desperate need of a new home. You see, my Aunt India despises all animals, and the idea of a four-legged furry thing running loose in the house offends her, so, that said, do you think that you could assist us?"

Ella was speechless. She liked dogs, she truly did, and she had never had one of her own. The fuzzy brown and white puppy was licking her toes, which tickled and made her laugh aloud.

"I can't believe you, Beau! Where did you find him? He looks just like Wade's old dog. Oh, I loved him so much, and Wade never let anyone else play with him. Is he really for me? Come here, Duke, come boy!"

Duke took to Ella right away, licking her face and hands incessantly, the puppy did not let his new owner out of his sight for a second.

"By the by," Beau said thickly, "you do look lovely this morning, Ella."

Ella looked down at her robe, which had come loose at the top, conveniently giving him a birds-eye view of her bosom. She quickly stood up and tightened her sash, turning an interesting shade of red as she motioned him to follow her inside.

"So," Beau asked casually as he observed the chemise on the hat-rack inside the foyer, "I take it you've had a historic evening?"

He laughed as Ella's face took on an uncharted shade of red as she took the undergarment from his hand. "My mother," she said in a clipped voice, flashing daggers towards the closed study door.

Beau burst out laughing. "You mean to tell me he's feeling up to-"

"Please don't mention it, it's rather embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed. It's part of every child's education, walking in on their parents whilst in the midst of conjugal relations…"

"I didn't walk in on them! But I'm trying very hard not to picture them…"

"Well, Aunt Scarlett's still a handsome woman. And Rhett, he's rather dashing, you know, for an old man."

"Again, trying not to picture it. You can't tell me you'd like to have walked in on your parents."

"No, can't say that I would."

Recognizing her blunder, Ella immediately covered her mouth. "I am so sorry, Beau. That just sort of slipped out."

Beau smiled. "I'm not offended. It doesn't pain me to speak of Mother. Really, it doesn't."

"I know that it's hard to lose people you love," Ella said, picking up Duke and placing a kiss on his soft muzzle. "And I know that it never goes away."

Beau shook his head. "No. It doesn't. Well, I'd best be off. I've got a busy day today, and you two lovebirds need to get acquainted."

"I already love him," Ella smiled down at the puppy as he yawned. "I do wish he'd stay this size forever."

"That's no fun. He'll be a big boy and a good watchdog."

"Thank you so much, Beau. He's a great dog. I promise to take very good care of him."

"I know you will…oh, Ella, I was just wondering, you know, now that Scarlett clearly doesn't require your assistance in managing Rhett, if you'd like to honor your promise to work for me for a couple months, I could sure use an extra hand. Unless you've forgotten…"

"No, I mean, I haven't forgotten. Well, I suppose that I can. I mean, there's not much to do here…but I hope you remember that I know next to nothing about horses."

Beau shrugged. "There's a first time for everything. That and I'll see that you have someone good to teach you the tricks of the trade."

"Who might that be?" Ella smirked. "I'll have you know that I have a better seat than Cooper."

"Of that I have no doubt. But I think I'll save that for tomorrow. I'm sure that you'll like him. I hear he's the best around. Well, I have to get back. You and Duke have a nice day and I'll see you tomorrow."

Ella walked Beau to the door, with Duke resting comfortably in one arm. She reached up with her free hand and touched his cheek. "Thank you for Duke, I love him. So much."

Beau smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Bye sweetheart," he said, closing the door gently behind him.

Sweetheart. _Sweetheart_. The word rang in her ears…What was this man doing to her? She couldn't think about anything else but him. For the first time in her life, she understood what it was to be in love with someone: she wanted nothing more than to speak to him, kiss him, rest in his arms…

"What is that?" her mother's voice penetrated her happy thoughts.

Rhett smiled, "I do believe it's called a puppy, my pet. That would be a small dog. A gift from young Mister Wilkes, I presume?"

Ella ignored his mild sarcasm and beamed. "Of course."

Scarlett half turned to look at her daughter curiously, and she fetched a cup of coffee to sip. But she couldn't contain her smile.

Meeting her eyes, Rhett smiled lazily and saluted her with the unlit cigar in his hand. "You know, I like Beau. As much as it pains me to say it, Ashley raised a hell of a son."

Scarlett shrugged. "A complement for Ashley. Why Rhett, I thought I'd never see the day. Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything..."

Rhett winced as he shifted his weight, leaning heavily on his cane. "Second and third times as well, in my case."

"Let us hope so," Scarlett looked up at him, an elegant brow raised.

"Come on, Duke," Ella picked up the puppy again and headed up the stairs, "lets leave them to their sweet whisperings."

Her heart swelled with happiness. It was like a beautiful dream, and she was going to go back to bed before anything happened to spoil it. Besides, she would see Beau again tomorrow.

She had never looked so forward to tomorrow…

_**Author's Note – Thank you so much to those who have reviewed so far. This is the unofficial 'end' of part one. I hope that you're looking as forward to reading the next part half as much as I'm looking forward to writing it. Ella and Beau are so much fun to write; I hope that I'm doing them justice somewhat. Please feel free to review and share your thoughts! =) **_


	8. All In All

**8 **

**All In All**

The next morning turned out to be a beautiful day, the gentle heat of the summer sun bearing down on the fields of Tara. Anticipating a long, hard day out of doors at Twelve Oaks, Ella had decided that her jodhpurs were perfectly appropriate attire whether her mother approved or not.

It was still early in the morning when Ella settled herself near the kitchen hearth while Pansy prepared her a steaming hot plate of grits and sausages. The bright flames danced underneath the cast iron kettle that hung over the fire, the water within it boiling cheerfully.

"Mother's not up yet?" Ella asked, nodding her head toward her mother's office door, which swung ajar revealing no occupants.

"Mist' Rhett's gwine try ter go ter Atlanta today, and Miss Scarlett ain't hardly gib dat man a bit a' peace since last night. She be wantin' ter get all duded up to celebrate Miss Kathleen's comin' out over at Mimosa on Sat'day, and she then wants Mist' Rhett to take her ter dat highfalutin ball dat Mist' Tarleton's givin' tonight."

"How do any of them have enough money to throw balls? I agree with Beau; it's all a waste of time and effort. I don't blame Rhett for not wanting to take Mother."

"Well, Ah's understandin' Miss Scarlett. Now dat she and Mist' Rhett's back together, Miss Scarlett's just got it in her head dat he's gwine jes' pick up where they left off."

"But she doesn't even like the Tarletons. And that Miss Fontaine, why, if I had a penny for every time I've heard Mother call her a silly and insidious flirt, I'd be a millionaire!"

"Well'm, she had Ole Jeb fetch her over ter Mimosa jes' yesterday, while you and Mist' Rhett was restin'. An' she come home a-ravin' over dat chile's genteel manners."

Ella snorted in derision and helped herself to another serving of buttery grits. Pansy frowned sharply as Ella shoved another heaping spoonful into her mouth.

"Dat's de way dem field hands eats, chile. Doan you go now forgettin' yo' manners."

"Oh who cares!" Ella threw her hands up in disgust. "I've earned it, haven't I? I paraded in front of those silly fools when I was sixteen and danced and smiled silly until I couldn't stand it. I'm twenty-eight years old and I'll be damned if I prevent myself from eating normally in order to compete with a stupid little twit like Kathie Fontaine."

The older woman laughed loudly, then nodded towards the twin sounds of raising voices and creaking stairs.

"But I want to talk to you!" Scarlett was saying sharply. "In my office, if you don't mind."

"I was taking a bath," Rhett retorted. "The first one in weeks, if it's all the same to you. And I plan to finish it, with or without your consent."

"I could care less. Parade yourself around the house stark naked for all I care. But Atlanta, Rhett? God's nightgown, I've only now gotten you well!"

He finally made it to the bottom of the steps, Scarlett fast on his heels, one hand was holding a towel firmly around his hips while the other was grasping his cane for dear life. He caught the meaning of her previous statement mid-stride, turning slightly toward the open kitchen door and nodding apologetically to Pansy and Ella.

"Your pardon, ladies, I've forgotten myself."

"Still giving thrills at your age, Uncle Rhett?" Ella said cheekily.

"Alas, Ella, my thrill-giving days are long since passed by."

"Rhett!" Scarlett warned him tautly, "Sit down before you fall down."

Rhett arched a brow toward his wife. "Well, I can't exactly do that, my pet. After all, Ella is sitting there and Pansy too. It would be the height of rudeness to sit before them in my present state of undress. As the _lady_ of the manor, my dear, you should at least attempt to enforce proper decorum in your own house."

"Insult me, I don't care. Kill yourself, I could care even less."

"I've been away from work for close to three months, and here for at almost two."

"Recovering from a nearly fatal injury!" Scarlett shrilled. "You act as though you just dropped by for one of your _visits _and now you're leaving again! When's the next time I'll see you again, Rhett, at your wake?"

"If you'll remember, my love," he attempted to inflect upon the endearment as he spoke softly, "I promised to return on the noon train tomorrow. Let it go, Scarlett. Go to the ball and have your fun tonight and I'll rejoin you here next weekend."

"So is it next weekend or tomorrow?"

Rhett gave Ella's mother a wry, lopsided grin and fixed his eyes upon her little figure closely. "Is that a grey hair I see, Scarlett?"

She flung up a hand irritably. "You're one to talk."

He laughed richly. "Indeed, Scarlett. The passage of years does its terrible dance on us all, does it not. It's lucky we have Ella and Beauregard here to keep us entertained. Speaking of young Mister Wilkes, Ella, weren't you supposed to be at Twelve Oaks this morning?"

"Shit!" Ella cursed loudly, turning her back on her plate and striding past her parents and heading towards the open kitchen door, bounding down the hall to the front entrance, and slamming the door behind her as she headed down the long avenue.

"Was she wearing britches?" Rhett said pleasantly.

Ella managed about a mile before she began to feel the burning in her legs. She was stupid to have thought that she could have jogged the distance to Twelve Oaks. She knew that there was a shortcut, some path here or there, behind this tree or that…but there was no use getting lost, and she was already late. Finally, she saw tops of the freshly whitewashed outbuildings and knew that she was close. Catching her breath for a moment, she rested her arms on an old fence post and ran her fingers through her long hair, which had escaped from its makeshift up-do. How clever the Paris girls were to have such short hair!

"Fancy meeting you here."

Ella jumped at the sound of Beau's voice. He was riding a rawboned stallion that would have put most horseflesh she'd ever beheld to shape. The horse's confirmation was perfection, his silky mane and tail shining lustrously as the sun shone down upon them. The rider wasn't too shabby, either…

"You startled me!" Ella cried indignantly.

"I apologize, my dear. I was worried about you. I was planning on riding over to Tara if I hadn't seen your face after too long."

"Oh, I'm tardy. I am very sorry to have put you out, Beau. Mother and Rhett were…oh…it doesn't matter what they were doing. I've made you late and I'm truly sorry. You asked me to help you and I've done nothing but hold you up, and I-"

"There's no need to apologize," he interjected. "Besides. I'm glad you meandered in on this side of the property. I've been wanting to show you the new south gate."

Ella laughed. "Well then, I've really spoiled your plans, since South is that way."

He grinned cheekily. "Good girl. You've been paying attention. What to do? I guess we'll have to ride over." He held a hand down for her to grab.

"I would much prefer to walk."

"Why's that?"

"I…That beast looks dangerous."

"This is Dumbarton's Diehard. Dumby for short. Hardly intimidating."

"He's very lovely, but I still would prefer to walk."

"Suit yourself then," Beau said, dismounting with an easy grace. "But it's a long walk back to the south gate. Would you not permit me to lift you up?"

"No! I'm not some willowy nymph, Beau," Ella spat. "And I could do it myself if I wanted to."

"But you don't want to?"

"I'd prefer not."

"Why do all the women in your family insist on making things more difficult than they actually are?"

"Well why do all the men in your family not take no for an answer?"

Beau considered her statement, then burst out laughing.

"I think that that criticism could just as easily be applied to members of _your_ family, Miss Kennedy. Of course, we are cousins, aren't we? In a manner of speaking."

She rolled her eyes. "We certainly are not. We are utterly and completely different."

"Indeed, let's name a few qualities. Clever, resourceful, Doesn't take 'no' for an answer…let's see, charming, irresistibly good-looking…"

"Not at all conceited, are you?" Ella rolled her eyes.

"Actually, I was describing you."

"Oh." Ella felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment, and they stayed that way for the rest of the walk back up toward the main barn.

"Those look like nice horses," she finally managed to speak aloud, pointing to a group of six smallish mares basking in the sunshine.

"You like them?" he asked hopefully, "Those are your girls to work with."

"What are their names?" she inquired politely.

He smirked. "Fillies numbers one through six. Feel free to name them at your leisure. But they're yours to work with, that is, if you decide to stay on for the rest of the summer."

She nodded quietly, placing her hand atop her eyes to shield them from the bright sun. "I forgot to bring a hat. My skin will look like-"

"Mine?" he winked, taking off his own hat and wiping the sweat from his own forehead. "Come on into the office with me; I do believe that I can assist you there."

As Beau took Ella's arm, he looked her over. She was one of the few women he had ever seen that could wear jodhpurs well; they accented clearly the curviness of her legs and derrière. God, but he did want her…but she was so sensitive, this woman…she would need all sorts of time in order to open up to him, else he'd end up in the same position as her parents: spending years of their lives at cross purposes.

"You'll need these, Ella," he pulled a faded brown hat from atop the shelf, then a pair of ladies' gloves that looked at least twenty years old. "These," he held up the gloves, "belonged to my late Mother. They were given to her on the occasion of their betrothal, along with a riding habit and crop…I don't believe that she ever used them. Aunt Scarlett found them when we bought the place at the sheriff's sale. They were hidden in one of the old slave cabins. One of the negroes must have stolen them after the Yankees raided the house…"

His voice trailed off and she squeezed his arm. "It's alright, Beau…It's alright. I promise to take good care of Aunt Melly's gloves."

"I know you will." Beau forced a smile. "Anyway, back to the hat, it belonged to my grandfather Wilkes. Apparently it was his favorite. He didn't take it with him to war so as not to get it dirty. Isn't that something? I guess he figured the hat'd be a reason to come back. He never did, poor man. Imagine, a man older than Rhett fighting in a war…"

"I suppose that's what makes his sacrifice all that more heroic," Ella said genuinely.

"Heroic? An old man going off to battle? That's not heroic, it's a waste. And a damned shame. That whole war was just…and then you have these idiots around here who talk about starting up the Klan again. Stupid illiterate fools mainly, the ones who are too proud or too thick to understand that the war is over. Scaring the negroes who are only trying to make a decent life for themselves in these hard times. Goddamn fools living in a dream, acting like they're old enough to remember the war…"

"I've never heard you talk like that before."

"I'm sorry. I tend to get rather passionate whenever I return from town, I don't mean to preach."

"No, no, I certainly sympathize. My own father died in the Klan, remember?"

He nodded. "I do remember. Very vaguely; I was very small. Wade and I were playing in the parlor after the wake…It seems like Rhett came by to pay his respects and he gave Wade your Daddy's pistol."

"Oh Wade," Ella rolled her eyes. "I wish he would have thought to have given it to me. I haven't got anything in the world to remember him by. Just one old picture."

"Pa always said that Mr. Kennedy was a good man, quiet and soft-spoken, a very gentle soul."

Ella smiled. "I wish I could be that way…I seem to have inherited Mother's disposition with none of her poise and none of his gentleness."

Beau returned the grin. "You're your own person. No shame in that. Alright, my dear Miss Kennedy, shall we proceed with your lessons?"

As the sun set and darkness began to settle in the night sky, Ella stumbled up the stairs and into her bedroom. She slipped off her tall, dirty riding boots first, then her jodhpurs, then her sweat soaked shirt. She would have to come up with more practical attire…

Duke stretched out lazily on the bed, wagging his fluffy tail with pleasure as she scratched behind his ears.

"Lazy thing," she chided the pup, who showed no sign of moving from his comfortable position.

"Ella?" her mother's voice seemed smaller, more defeated sounding than normal as she knocked softly on her bedroom door, and when Ella opened it, she saw that Scarlett's countenance was equally downcast.

"What's wrong, Mother?" Ella said with concern. "Is Rhett…" She didn't want to say the word 'gone'…that would be too reminiscent of all those times before…

"No, he's downstairs." Scarlett smiled wryly. "In his haste to prove his vigor, he managed to make that bad leg bleed again. The doctor's been by, and insisted that he be sitting down or in bed for at least a week more."

A wave of relief passed over Ella. "Well, what is it then, Mother?"

Scarlett sighed. "Your brother has written. It seems that he is bringing his lovely bride with him to visit. But he says that he has no interest to stay on the _farm_. He'll stay in Jonesboro for two nights, then onto Atlanta to look over his property there. You know, I wonder why he even takes the trouble to come by at all?"

Ella did know, although she dared not explain it to her mother. The simple truth was that Scarlett had been too young, too uninterested in either of them to have ever been considered a decent parent. It was not until after Rhett had abandoned her had she put forth any effort at all, and by then, it was far too late for her to win Wade over. Instead, she took her mother's tiny hand and patted it gently.

"Sweet Ella," her mother murmured. "I suppose I have very little to complain about, all in all…" Suddenly, Scarlett's face brightened and she said without any sort of provocation from Ella, "Ella, you're in love with Beau, aren't you?"

Ella thought about the question intently. Although she was thinking something very similar, it was safely kept inside her head, and somehow, discussing the matter with her mother would make it an incontrovertible reality. _In love with Beau. _

"You can be open with me, Ella, at least with this…" Scarlett sat down at the end of the bed, pushing Duke out of the way. "I could even, well, I don't know, offer you some advice…"

"Advice?"

"Well," Scarlett sniffed, "I did have twelve marriage proposals to my name before I was sixteen."

"Mother, I'm not sixteen!" Ella protested. "I'm not looking to meet scores of eligible men. I really didn't intend on meeting anyone at my age…but Beau, he's just…"

"Different?"

"Well, yes. I mean, I feel close to him. I mean, mentally, you know? Its like...I understand him."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Go on…"

"I love the kind of person he is. He's warm, and he's understanding. He's a beautiful person, inside and out. I don't know, Mother, could I be falling in love with him? Because the idea of it scares the living hell out of me, if you'll pardon my expression."

If Scarlett was offended, she didn't show it, so Ella continued.

"I've gone through life telling myself that I didn't need a man, any man. But he consistently proves me wrong. But even so, Mother, I feel as if I can't get too close, because the closer you get, the harder it is when its over. And honestly, I don't think I can handle any more tragedy in my life."

"Having Rhett around makes it harder doesn't it?" Scarlett inquired sagely, drumming her fingers on the rail of Ella's four poster bed. "You've been through hell when it comes to fathers, and probably a few men abroad…am I right?"

Ella nodded, brushing a tear from her eye and willing herself not to cry in front of her mother.

"I've not made it easy for you either, have I? I haven't. I know that. But listen to me in this, if nothing else, promise me to do this. Let him love you. He's much more Melly's son than Ashley's. He'll love you with all his heart, if you'll only let him."

And Ella contemplated her mother's words long after Scarlett had gone downstairs to see to Rhett…all in all, her mother understood. That in and of itself was a remarkable feat, as though after twenty-eight years they had finally began to speak the same language. As for Beau Wilkes, she had every intention of heeding her mother's advice when it came to him…


	9. Sky Is Falling

**9**

**Sky Is Falling**

Ella worked diligently at Twelve Oaks, reminding herself again and again of Beau's instant declaration that she had the potential to become a good horsewoman. And she was fascinated by everything she had learned from him. After all, he was legitimately good at his profession, and she knew that she had the best instructor money could buy.

By week's end, she had spent a great deal of time with one horse in particular, a little younger than the other fillies, she was the most high-strung of the group. Her coat was a reddish-orange color that Beau called Tarleton red, and Ella had christened her Sunny. She had been her favorite from the beginning, so she worked extra hard with her.

Mounting was easy now, and Ella did so with no great effort. She clicked her tongue against her teeth in encouragement and urged Sunny on. For a moment, they were like two souls, horse and woman, free to ride out into the beyond….

Until Beau called, "Ella! Slow her down. You're pushing her too hard. Cool her off and come over here. I need to talk to you."

She pulled on her reins and Sunny halted as bidden, though she expressed her displeasure with an aggrieved shake of her coppery head. As she approached the fence, she saw Cooper hurrying down the pathway from the big house toward Beau.

She dismounted and gave Sunny a pat and whispered a promise of a sugar cube later.

"Mist' Beau!" Cooper called from a few yards away.

"What's going on, Coop?" Beau replied, looking faintly annoyed.

"Well suh…" Cooper looked sheepishly at Ella and then Beau and then back at Ella, unsure if he should say what he'd come down to say in her presence.

"Spit it out, Coop, we're busy," Beau said.

"Well suh, Miz Kathleen say gib dis here letter directly to you, suh. She says her daddy still in de hospital and she need you bad o'r at Mimosa, suh." Cooper turned again toward Ella, "Dat dere's some purty hoss, Miz Ella. Well, Ah's gwine ter my chores up atter house."

With shoulders slumped, Cooper lumbered off, and Ella was left with Beau, who had pulled the letter out of its envelope and began to read it. Her heart sank. Kathleen Fontaine. Who was this damn Kathleen Fontaine? Did she dare ask him about her? No, she would wait for him to bring it up in his own good time…

She looked over in his direction. "What did you want to talk to me about, Beau?"

His mind seemed somewhere else. "Oh, yes. I did. Never mind, Ella. Listen, why don't you put her on up for today. She's spent and I'm sure you want to get ready for Wade."

She had almost forgotten about Wade's visit.

"Should we set the table for you and your father too?"

"No, but thank you. Well…on second thought…he'd like to see Wade, I'm sure. And the little wifey, of course. I'll send him over around six. I can't, unfortunately; I've got some important things to do around here…I'll see you at the Tarletons' tomorrow night though."

As he excused himself and headed up the path toward his office, Ella thought to herself - Important things. Sure. Like Miss Kathleen Fontaine.

It took Ella over an hour to put Sunny up, brushing her properly and situating her in her stall for the night. Beau said that her ritual was unnecessary; but damn it, Sunny was her responsibility and she thought that the horse enjoyed being put to bed in a certain way. As she turned to leave, she cupped Sunny's soft muzzle in her hands and kissed the tip of it.

"Goodnight, my fine girl," Ella whispered. "I'll see you on Monday."

As she walked down the long row of stalls, she noted that Beau's stallion was missing, his tack as well. Whoever Miss Fontaine was, hurrying over to Mimosa to see her must have ranked high on his list of priorities.

"Ah kin call a carriage for you, Miz Ella," Cooper offered as he observed her standing still by the barn door.

Oh hell, she might as well just get this over with.

"No thanks, Cooper, not yet. I need to discuss something with Uncle Ashley first."

She marched up toward the big house and walked in through the front door.

"Hello, Dilcey," she stuck her head into the kitchen door to announce herself to Dilcey, who was bent down over her steaming pot of chicken and rice.

"That smells delicious," Ella took in the glorious scent. She would never tire of homemade Southern cooking as long as she lived.

"Have some, chile, Ah'll fix you a plate."

"I would gladly, Dilcey, but I'm expected back home for dinner. Wade and his wife are due in this evening and I suppose I'd best eat with them."

"Ah's gettin' the sense that Miss Scarlett doan like Mist' Wade's wife, dat so?"

Ella shrugged. "I don't think Mother's had much of a chance to get to know her. I myself have yet to lay eyes on the woman. I'm sure she's lovely though. And rich. And a Yankee."

Dilcey smirked. "Miss Scarlett's boy married ter a Yankee. Shame, shame."

Ella sighed. "Well, I did want to ask Uncle Ashley something before I left. You wouldn't know where I could find him, would you?"

"Ah's 'spectin' Mist' Ashley in the garden, chile. But you best hurry iffen you want to get to Tara 'fore suppertime."

"I will, Dilcey, and thank you!"

Dilcey heaved a sigh as she watched the young woman walk away. She liked Ella Kennedy immensely, and in her not so humble opinion, Beau Wilkes did not have a brain in his head if he did not seize the initiative and marry her quickly. She could tell how Ella felt about him just in the way she looked at him…and if his responses were any indication, he was feeling something very similar.

Ella walked briskly down the long avenue to the gardens. Prized azaleas and roses in various stages of blooming, lovingly tended by the master of Twelve Oaks. He was in his usual stance, on his knees with a trowel in his hand when she approached him.

"Uncle Ashley?"

"Oh! Ella, dear! How are you?"

"Oh, I'm very fine indeed. Just a little tired from today, but I can't complain."

"I'm not surprised. I was watching you ride today, and Ella, you're a natural. Why, with that mount today, I do believe that you could compete in the Ladies' Dressage event at the State Fair next month and win if you put your mind to it."

"I doubt that," Ella demurred.

"I don't. And trust me, my dear, I've been in the business of thoroughbreds for a long, long time. Ah, well, I shouldn't say that…after all, its Beau's business, not mine. I'm just the gardener these days."

"Oh, Uncle Ashley, was Twelve Oaks really this grand before the war?"

He smiled at the thought. "It was better. See that shady tree…over there? Your mother sat underneath that tree with every eligible young man in the County at her feet. Dozens of us, by the scores. Basking in her youth and beauty."

"I bet she was something."

"She was. You're not so different from her, though."

Ella sighed. "I'm only missing the elegance, the charm, the tiny waist, oh, and, let me think, ah! The dozens of beaux."

"I should think that one Beau would be plenty," Ashley said with a small smile.

Ella drew in a sharp breath. "Uncle Ashley, may I ask you something? Please, don't think I'm silly for asking, and if I am being silly, kindly let me know. And of course, you don't have to answer me at all if you don't want too…"

"My dear, do tell me. I am very curious."

She blushed slightly as she finally managed to sputter out. "Uncle Ashley, who is this Kathleen Fontaine and what sort of claim does she have over Beau?"

His smiled quickly faded into a frown. "From whom did you hear about Kathleen, my dear?"

And Ella explained the story to him, pouring her heart out as she did so. It was his turn to blush.

"Well, Ella, Kathleen is the daughter of our very good friends Alex and Sally Fontaine, over at Mimosa. We've known Kathleen since she was a child. She had a few difficulties, but then again, don't we all…anyway, where was I? Oh, Kathleen. Well, she's a very beautiful young lady. She's very striking. But she doesn't love the place like her father does, or as Beau loves Twelve Oaks. Allow me be blunt with you, Ella, she chose to remain in the County over the Season in Atlanta for one reason and one reason alone."

Alarm shone in Ella's eyes as she caught his meaning. "Let me guess, Beau?"

"Yes, you are quite right. You see, my dear, I'm afraid that Beau has quite a number of women out there…so, if you have any desire to make me the happiest man in the world, you'll have to put in a good fight, Ella."

She scoffed. "What happened to the days of the woman being pursued? Like the knight to his lady fair?"

Ashley smiled sadly. "Those days, as they say, are gone with the wind."

She looked up at the clouds rolling in, and decided to take her leave before it began to rain.

"Mist' Wilkes!" Cooper was calling from several yards away as he jogged toward them. "Miz Ella, Ah's keep disturbin' you. Ah's sorry, Mist' Wilkes, but did Mist' Beau gwine up ter Mimosa?"

"I believe so," Ashley nodded, "is there something you need?"

"Well suh, Ah's gotta problem. I done sent all the men home on 'count of der rain." Cooper shifted on his feet and began again. "All dats ter say, suh, Miz Beatriz was a-ridin' past here and she say deres fifty of our cows up dat road 'bout a mile off Fairhill. Dey muster broke dat old south fence. I needer get dem inside whiles I fix dat fence, and I ain't got no help."

"I can help!" Ella volunteered eagerly.

Ashley rolled his eyes. "Anything to put off the inevitable, eh? Well, I'm not so old and decrepit that I can't help as well. The two of us should be able to round up a couple cows in no time."

"Sure, Uncle Ashley, let's go."

"Alright, right behind you."

"You 'uns be careful, Mist' Ashley, Miz Ella. Ah wouldn't look Mist' Beau in der eye iffen someat happened ter you."

"We will, Coop!" Ella responded, heading back in the direction of the barn.

"It looks like rain," Ashley said as he hastily saddled up a mount for himself. "Don't take the filly you were riding today. She's too fine to get all mucked up in this…take that black filly in that stall," he indicated the one with his hand. "Surefooted, that one. But any horse can be skiddish in the rain, so be careful."

As they set off into the elements, the weather couldn't have cooperated less. The rain was pelting them, obscuring visibility to such a degree that Ella could barely see in front of her.

"I'm sorry for this, Ella!" Ashley called over the rain.

"It's fine, don't worry!" she hollered back. "Its going to be great experience for me, at any rate. Then we can ride over to Tara and be pampered, alright?"

"What?"

"Never mind!"

They finally reached the road, which enabled them to speed the pace of their mounts slightly. It had to have been an hour - the sky was already getting dark.

Ashley attempted to explain to Ella how to corner the cows and then how to squire them into the fenced-in portion of the property.

"Listen close, Ella, if one of them get out of hand, just let it go. Its not a great loss if we lose one. We can usually find the ones that don't follow the group later."

As she kicked her mount, Ashley watched her gallop in front of him into the rain to bring in the cows. Cooper had already begun hammering on the broken down fence. As Ashley maneuvered his own horse into a steady canter, he prayed for a moment to his late wife, hoping against hope that Ella was capable of this sort of endeavor - and that he was, for that matter. And if your son doesn't fall for her after this, Melly, he addressed her in his mind, "I will bear no responsibility for any further failings of his for the rest of his life…"

Ahead of him, Ella had reached the cows. She did her best impression of Calamity Jane from a Wild West show she had seen as a child, cracking her small whip in front of her in an attempt to round up the beasts. The horse seemed perfectly at ease, so she loosened her grip on the reins slightly.

"Come on, girls. Come on cows, lets go. That's right, let's go home! Let's go home!"

It took about an hour, but between Ashley and Ella, the majority of the cows were rounded up and returned to their proper pasture and expertly mended fence.

"I lost about ten," Ella said. "I'm going back."

"Be careful, Ella."

"Go on back to the house, Uncle Ashley, you'll catch your death out here!"

He shook his head. "I'll wait for you. Be careful!"

She rode out in the direction she had thought the renegades were headed toward. The rain had picked up again and was coming down in sheets. "Come on girl," Ella urged her horse, "We've got a few more cows to find."

She rode for awhile, thinking that she had long since missed dinner and if she stayed out an hour longer, she might get lucky and miss Wade and Victoria's visit all together.

A bolt of lightning struck a tree, illuminating the sky. Her horse spooked and nearly threw her off, so she quickly dismounted and began to speak soothingly to the mare. She attempted to turn around and head back in the direction she'd come from, but it was now so dark, she could no longer see in front of her. She started to yell for her Uncle Ashley and for Cooper, and suddenly, the realization that she was lost hit her.

"Where are we?" she addressed her horse. "Do you know the way home?"

Ashley had sent Cooper on back to the house, and finally had decided to do the same. The horse would know its way home - perhaps it had even taken Ella back on another pass. Lord knew there were plenty. It wasn't doing him any good to remain out and wait for her. No, he'd ride back to the house and reevaluate his options if she had not made it back as well. That was not something he wanted to consider. He wondered if Beau was still with Kathleen…

A very emotional Dilcey was waiting for him as he walked up the front porch steps.

"You've been gone for so long, Mist' Ashley. Where's Miss Ellla?"

As Ashley attempted to explain, his voice hoarse from yelling, they heard a loud voice from the direction of the barn.

"Pa!" Beau appeared behind his father. "What the hell happened to you? I got caught in the rainstorm on the way back, what's your excuse?"

"Ella," Ashley rasped as Dilcey hurried to get him a change of clothes. "Cows. The storm."

"Ella's outside? In this?" Beau's face was frozen with horror. "Good God." Without any more words passing between them, the two men hurriedly gathered up an armful of blankets, a lantern and a small pint of whiskey. Beau ran up to his bedroom and returned with his oilskin slicker, which he threw over his body.

"Stay here, Pa, in case she makes it in. I'm going out to look. You might know she'd pick the day that the sky's falling in to get lost."

Ashley sighed. "Be careful, son. Bring her back safe."

Ella had lost consciousness from being so wet and cold. She was huddled in a ball underneath a small tree. The rain had slowed somewhat, and her horse had taken off for home.

Beau saw the horse heading home and urged his stallion in the direction it had come from. He called Ella's name over and over, until finally, he saw the form of a person curled up underneath a tree. It was her - God, it was her.

He dismounted quickly and scooped her up into his arms, wrapping the blankets around her and wishing mightily for some smelling salts.

"B-B-Beau," she said, her teeth chattering. "H-how?"

"Be quiet, sweetheart, save your strength." He dug into the pocket of his oilskin and pulled out the pint of whiskey. "Drink this. All of it, down."

Ella did grudgingly, feeling the burning hot flavor of the liquid as it trickled down her throat. It did make her feel warmer.

"Am I really warmer or am I drunk?"

He laughed at that. "A little of both, honey."

He carried her to his waiting mount and lifted her up into the saddle, then pulled himself up behind her, allowing her to rest against his chest as they headed home.

"Beau," Ella murmured, "is your father at home? He didn't wait for me, did he?"

"Yes, Ella, he is. Now go back to sleep, we're almost home."

Beau felt a horrible sting of guilt that he had been eating a luxurious dinner at Sally Fontaine's table while Ella could have died out in the woods trying to rescue his damnable cattle. He reflected back on the evening - there was nothing for him to be ashamed of. He had done the books for Miss Sally, talked about Alex, who lay in an Atlanta hospital. Then he had dealt as politely as possible with Kathleen, who had wanted him to linger for a cigar and brandy on her veranda. She had even gone as far as to ask him if he had a new woman or what?

He smiled down at Ella as she lay close to him. He felt as though he never wanted to let her go.

"Thank the Lahd!" Dilcey clapped her hands together as they reached the house. She helped him ease Ella down, receiving her into her strong arms. "Mist' Wade Hampton rode over and is with your Pa in the parlor, Mist' Beau. He's was a-hoppin' mad that Miss Ella over here so late."

"Great," Beau rolled his eyes. "Well I'm going to tell him that she damn near died and needs to stay the night. He should take that well, eh?"

Dilcey shook her head. "Ah's tole Mist' Ashley. I think Mist' Wade's a reg'lar Yankee know. Sayin' such mean things to your po' Pa."

"What kinds of things?"

"I don' like ter repeat it, Mist' Beau. You'd best be talkin' to him. I'll get Miss Ella outter dem wet clothes."

"Thank you, Dilcey," Beau said, then hurried down the long hallway to deal with his long absent cousin…


	10. Take Me Away

**10**

**Take Me Away**

Beau had removed his boots and his coat when he had walked into the house, and he padded barefoot across the rug to the parlor door and opened it a crack. His father was standing at the threshold looking very bewildered.

"Ah, Beau, we were just discussing you."

Beau nodded sleepily, then moved past his father and towards his cousin. Wade Hampton Hamilton did cut an impressive figure. He was taller and heavier than Beau, with shoulders wide enough to make his waist and hips seem as narrow as a woman's. "Ah, Cousin Beau," he said, his lips curving into a small smile, which belied the irritation in his dark, snapping eyes.

But Beau was not intimidated, and his gaze did not waver.

"Welcome to Twelve Oaks, Wade. I must confess that I didn't think to see you until tomorrow."

Wade shrugged nonchalantly. "Circumstances warranted hastening my visit."

Dilcey entered with a silver tray bearing the coffee service and, after pouring each of the three a cup, took her leave - but only after shooting Wade an accusatory glare.

"Anythin' else, Mist' Ashley?"

Ashley met the woman's searching gaze, then shook his head. "Thank you so much, Dilcey. This is just fine."

Beau took up his cup and downed it quickly, then cleared his throat, unsure of how best to plead his case with Wade. He decided on an indirect approach.

"What brings you to Georgia?"

"To talk, mainly to you."

"Pertaining to?"

"Well, my mother for starters. And my sister."

Beau eyed his cousin before stating carefully. "I can assure you that my intentions regarding your sister are -"

"Uncle Ashley has already explained your intentions to me. But really, its not your intentions that are the issue, Cousin Beau - its Ella's reputation. As you yourself are no doubt aware, although she is an unmarried woman, she's certainly well past her suitability for marriage."

"That's a matter of opinion, don't you think?"

Wade raised an elegant, dark eyebrow. "I would consider that statement common knowledge. I don't know any man in his right mind who would want to marry her. She has little to offer in the way of beauty or other charms. Unless…unless you are of the mind to marry her yourself?"

Beau took in a deep breath. The idea had crossed his mind, but he wasn't all together certain that he had made his decision completely - moreover, he had not discussed the matter with Ella, despite the multitude of tender moments between them.

"I'm curious as to how Ella fits into whatever you wanted to say to me about your mother."

" Right. Thank you for reminding me. The fact is, I want Mother to return home with me. And Ella too, preferably. I have a second home in the city. There is a growing circle of divorcees and single women in my wife's circle; perhaps they might make friends. Either way, it makes it easier for me to keep an eye on things."

"Oh? What things are those?

"Well, there is the issue of Tara. It's nothing but a money-drainer without a hundred or more tenants to work it, and she refuses to subcontract anything - all that aside, you do realize that Mother is the sole beneficiary of Rhett Butler in the event of his death?"

Beau shrugged, exchanging a glance with his father, whose face was clouded with displeasure.

"Four million cash, if he died tomorrow. A life insurance policy of fifty thousand. Interests in gold, silver, real estate…My God, his net worth is greater than Carnegie's!"

Beau crossed his arms across his chest. He did not like where this was headed, not one bit.

"Well, the obvious response that comes to mind is that Rhett is not dead yet. He looked anything but when I saw him the other day. And besides, even if he is getting on in years, Aunt Scarlett isn't nearly as old as he is. She'll have plenty of time to spend his money. And you know, she deserves every penny for all she's endured from that man over the years."

"All she's endured - Hell! She hasn't starved, last I checked. Moreover, I watched Victoria's mother die just this past winter, and she was younger than Mother is. It was so quick, a common cold, turned into pneumonia. The finest doctors, hospitals, nothing could save her…and at any rate, if something did happen to either of them, I'd be forced to lose weeks worth of work to see about them. That's an awful lot of money to leave unattended, Beau."

Beau stared at his cousin, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Surely, Cousin, your mother's happiness means more to you than any amount of money."

Wade shrugged. "I could give a damn about her happiness. She never issued much concern for mine."

"You cannot force Scarlett to go anywhere," Ashley piped up from his chair. "Nor can you force her to part with Tara. The deed is in her name and hers alone."

"There are precedents in the courts. Sons filing suit for their patrimonies in the event that their mothers cannot administrate them effectively."

"Once again, Wade, Tara never belonged to Charles. Gerald's will read very clearly that Tara was to go to Scarlett, and Scarlett alone."

"Oh come now, Uncle Ashley, you know as well as I do that she cooked up that will after Uncle Will packed up and left. And she did it for a reason - so that Rhett couldn't take it from her. Stupid woman. Like he'd want a farm."

"Now that you've brought up Rhett, it seems prudent of me to mention that he is still Aunt Scarlett's husband; or have you forgotten?"

"No I haven't. I of course have invited him to come along with us as well. In the event of another unfortunate - accident - we want him to be nearby to good medical care, don't we?"

"Oh for God's sake, you're going to try this on Rhett too, aren't you? Well you won't, by God, you won't!" Beau thundered. "I'll marry Ella myself and they'll live with us in their old age. What's more, I'll fight you tooth and nail in court for Tara if I must."

Wade seemed close to bursting with laughter.

"Tara? That's it? You mean to say, I give my consent for you to marry my sister and all you get out of Mother and Rhett's estate is Tara?"

Beau looked over at his father, whose grey eyes were devoid of any emotion.

"Yes. Take the rest; I don't want it."

Wade looked genuinely delighted.

"Then we'll draw up a contract. We'll arrange the marriage straightaway. Mother said that you liked her anyway, though God only knows what you see in her. No matter, no matter, I'll sign my rights to Tara over freely and gladly."

Beau nodded stoically. "Anything else?"

Wade fixed him with his dark eyes. "I am content. I should take my sister home."

"She's resting, upstairs." Beau snapped. "If she is now my betrothed, then I would think it perfectly acceptable to remain overnight."

Ashley nodded in agreement and Wade shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"She's probably too old for it to matter much."

Without another word, Wade stood up from his chair and marched through the portal and into the hallway, where Cooper stood at attention. "Get my horse would you? Good man," he turned around and faced Beau and Ashley, then took a look around the furnishings of the house and whistled appreciatively.

"Looks like you won't starve without my money. Enjoy my sister, won't you?"

And with that he exited through the front door, disappearing out into the night and leaving the Wilkes men alone to stare at one another.

"Well," Ashley said, "whatever they're putting in the water up north, I'm not impressed."

Beau laughed hollowly. "Pa, what did I just agree to?"

"I believe that you just agreed to marry Ella and take on the ownership of Tara upon Scarlett's death or incapacitation."

"That's what I thought. And I spoke to neither Scarlett, nor Rhett, nor Ella about it."

Ashley sighed. "Perhaps its wise. I mean, we're none of us getting any younger; and I know that Scarlett would rather die than to have Tara sold at auction. And as for Ella, Beau it is my personal belief that these past few weeks have been ample enough time for you to get to know one another. Why, your mother and I had only met once before we were promised…"

"Once?" Beau looked incredulous. "Once?"

"Indeed. She was thirteen and I was twenty."

"Pa, that's not a great start to this romance - but keep going…"

Ashley chuckled. "There was no grand romance. There was simply Melly being the right mate for me and I knew it right away. We just - fit."

"But Ella and I don't just _fit_. I mean, Pa, we're wild about one another, that's no secret. But there's got to be more to it than that, doesn't there?"

"You think that your relationship is lacking in _that_, do you?"

"No. I mean. Pa! That's not fair. I've not touched her. Well - not in that - Pa!"

Beau's words were interrupted by a loud, insistent tapping of the front door knocker, which was quickly followed by Dilcey's frantic assurances that she was coming. As the door opened, a voice barked from the entrance hall.

"I need to speak to Mr. Beauregard Wilkes immediately."

"Mist' Beau indisposed, suh," Dilcey was saying, her voice quivering as if she was deeply shaken by the harsh demand of the intruder.

"I'm the sheriff of Clayton County, woman, don't you be cute with me. You send him out right now.

Upon hearing that piece of information, Beau and his father hastened to the room to inquire as to the cause of the visit as well as the need for the sheriff's harsh tone with Dilcey.

The grey-haired, mustached man was glaring at Dilcey and Cooper, then caught sight of Beau as he stalked through the foyer.

"Good evening, Hugh," Ashley addressed the man. "May we help you?"

"Evening, Ashley. I've come here on a grave matter. Mrs. Fontaine over at Mimosa put in a frantic call over to the Tarleton place, and Jim rode through the storm to get me over there as soon as possible."

"I take it that something was amiss, Hugh?"

"Damn right, Ashley. Mrs. Sally's daughter is dead. One gunshot to the chest."

Beau's heart sank. He had known Kathleen had been upset by him leaving, but not so much so that she would harm herself. The thought that she had done so- and that he was responsible - the thought was torturous.

"You must know my reason for coming, Ashley. Mrs. Fontaine's testimony is that your son was the last person to see Miss Kathleen alive. Is that so, son?"

Beau nodded. "I was with her tonight."

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone. She walked me out. We conversed briefly on the porch. She was angry with me. Sheriff, I feel terrible that she's done this to herself…"

"This was no suicide. No sir, this was murder."

"Murder? But who would want to kill Kathleen?"

"You tell me, son. But you already did, didn't you? You've placed yourself at the scene of the crime, along with the motive. What happened, son? The more you tell me now the better things will go for you."

Beau threw up a hand in protest. "This is ridiculous. Absolutely insane. Period. I never touched Kathleen. She was standing on the porch when I rode out. She was upset with me, as I said, yes - but I did not lay a hand on her."

"Save it for the jury, son."

"Hugh," Ashley said, his face pale, "surely you can't believe that my son would be capable of such -"

"I don't know, Ashley, I just have to follow the law. Come on, son. Will you surrender yourself willingly?"

Beau scowled dubiously downward at the man. "I suppose that I have little choice in the matter. Pa, will you tell Ella when she wakes what's happened. And if you wouldn't mind asking Rhett for his recommendation as to a good lawyer."

Ashley's heart began to race as he watched the sheriff handcuff his son. "Is that necessary, Hugh? This is Beau, not some common criminal."

"I'm sorry, Ashley. I have to follow the law. Come on, son. You can visit him tomorrow at County, Ashley."

"It'll be okay, Pa. We'll clear it up," Beau said, his voice free of any emotion. "Take me away, Sheriff."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN - Who killed Miss Kathleen Fontaine? **_


	11. Cling and Clatter

**11**

**Cling and Clatter**

Ella had awoken in the middle of the night and had tiptoed down the hallway toward the kitchen for a glass of hot milk. Anything for some sleep. Anything to take her mind off of things.

To her surprise, her mother was already standing in the kitchen. A hot pot off coffee was sitting on the stove and a bottle of whiskey on the table.

"I needed a hot toddy to help me sleep," Scarlett said, her face flushed with the embarrassment of having her nightly ritual discovered.

Ella responded by retrieving her own glass from the pantry and pouring her own generous serving of whiskey into it. Taking a sip, she stared into her mother's face.

"I can tell by looking at you that you fear the worst."

Scarlett sighed aloud. "I haven't cried so much since Melly died. You remember Melly, don't you, Ella? Beau's mother?"

Ella nodded. "She was a wonderful lady."

"Well, seeing Ashley tonight and Dilcey's sorrow and Kathleen Fontaine lying there dead - and knowing that the blame for it is being cast upon Beau. Why did he go, Ella? How could he have gone?"

Ella sighed. "I don't know, Mother. I truly don't. In truth, he was acting strange before he left for the Fontaine's. I was jealous of her…of Kathleen."

Scarlett dropped her head into her hands and cried, seemingly forever, until at last, with a shudder, they came to an end. Raising her head, she took the cup of coffee that Ella held out for her and drank the tepid liquid quickly.

Without further words between them, Ella put an arm around her mother's shoulders and assisted her up the stairs and to the master bedroom, where Rhett lay softly snoring.

"I mustn't wake him," Scarlett whispered, then quietly pulled the door closed behind her. Moments later, Ella heard the rocker creaking on the porch and more of her mother's muffled sobs.

She returned to her own bedroom and closed her eyes, and with a heavy heart, thought that the entire County would most likely be mourning for a very long time.

Her sleep fitful, she shivered in fright, seeing terrible visions of Beau wielding the pistol that shot Miss Kathleen in the heart. Finding it useless to sleep, she rose at last, then sat down at her vanity, readying herself for the new day before returning to the kitchen for another cup of strong black coffee.

Smells wafting up from the kitchen caused her stomach to rumble, reminding her that she did not eat last night, nor the night before.

The tongues were already wagging round the breakfast table as she entered, the gossip arriving long before the ham and eggs had been brought out by Pansy from the kitchen.

Wade had usurped Rhett's rightful position at the head of the table, and Ella thought he looked almost cheerful as he read the newspaper. His wife, Victoria, looked highbrowed and self-important. "Ella, dear, join us," Victoria pasted a big smile on her face.

"You were there when they took him away," she leaned close to Ella as the latter sat down beside her. "You must tell me, is it true what everyone in town is saying about Beau being enraged over poor Miss Kathleen's father insisting upon their betrothal? You know, they're all saying that they were good as engaged. She'd been speaking about it for months, you know, planning out dress patterns and the like. It's really quite shocking!"

"Now, sweetheart," Wade peered over his newspaper. "You know that what you're repeating is hearsay. Beau is our cousin and I will assume his innocence until he is found guilty in a court of law."

"Phoey!" Victoria said dismissively. "You were railing about it this morning at the hotel … just because he's your cousin doesn't mean that he's not a murderer. I daresay, it was worth the trip just to see the spectacle. I do hope we can remain for the trial."

Glaring at her sister-in-law and then her brother, Ella picked up her knife and began cutting the ham on her plate before answering. "Everyone in this town knows the fine, upstanding character of Beauregard Wilkes. He's a pillar of the community, a wonderful gentleman. Could you ever believe him capable of such a thing, Wade Hampton?"

Wade stroked his chin as he leaned back in his chair. "No need to upset yourself, Ella. I was just restating the obvious. Beau will be tried. And he will be hanged if found guilty, that simple."

"Hanged, really? Why that's barbaric - the things you Southerners come up with, why, it's simply extraordinary. I'm very glad that I was born north of the Mason-Dixon Line," Victoria preened in her seat.

"They hang people in New York too, sweetheart," Wade smiled indulgently at his silly, beautiful wife. "The offenders simply aren't important enough to reach your delicate ears."

"I think you're teasing me, dear," Victoria smiled coquettishly. "But still I shall enjoy the excitement while we are here. The scandal is positively delicious."

Having enough, Ella threw her napkin down as she stood up. "Do you think that this is a game? Do you? A girl is dead! And until this misunderstanding is cleared up, Beau will pay for it! You stupid, selfish _cow_!"

With that she left the room, the sound of Victoria's outraged "Well I never…" behind her.

Fleeing to her mother's office, she looked out the big window and out over the lawn at the hustle and bustle of the servants as they went about working as well as gossiping. She could tell by the way they held their heads together, furtively glancing toward the big house. Truly, the Negro line of communication was remarkable - and this would be fodder for their conversations for months to come.

Standing at the window in deep thought, Ella did not even hear Rhett enter the room until he cleared his throat.

She turned around quickly, startled, and stammered an explanation. "I didn't hear you come in. I was just …oh, I don't know…"

He walked the length of the room and took up position by her side, taking in the same scene that she was.

"No words need be spoken, Ella. We've known each other far too long."

"Oh Rhett," she sobbed. "Beau wouldn't - he wouldn't do this. But when I hear Wade and his wife and all of them … I can't stand it, Rhett, I can't!"

"Shh," he soothed, placing an arm around her shoulder. "It's alright. Look, all that matters is that the sheriff gets to the bottom of the matter. And leave the gossip out of it. I made a terrible mistake once, placing my trust in idle gossip. I know damn well that Beauregard loves you better than anything. Don't start doubting him now, eh? We will all be the better for it."

With a kiss on the cheek, he left her side and shut the door softly behind him.

"He's right." Ella declared loudly. "He's right!"

She excused herself for the afternoon, pleading a headache when Wade asked her if she'd like to come with him to town. They wouldn't be allowed to see Beau until the sheriff had completed his investigation, so there really was no purpose for her presence there. Besides, Ashley had to be lonely over at Twelve Oaks…

Ella and Ashley pulled two chairs from the back porch to sit beside the old oak behind the house after her horse and buggy had been situated, in order to have a conversation away from listening ears.

"Well, Kathleen's funeral is tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m.," he sighed, taking a deep drag on his Havana. "I visited Sally this morning. It was a terrible thing to behold, the wailing and weeping. Alex arrives tomorrow…my oldest friend." He suddenly jumped out of his chair and leaned up against the tree. "It's a good thing Beau's in jail. Alex would come out here and shoot him without stopping to ask questions. In fact, the majority of the folks in town are not very favorable to Beau's case right now. It wouldn't take anything for a lynch mob to gather," he added, shaking his head sadly at the thought of his son being strung up.

"I don't even want to think of such things, Uncle Ashley," Ella replied. "None of it makes any sense. None of it…"

"Of course not - it never should have happened!" He slammed his fist against the tree, articulating each word as it made impact. His fist was bleeding when he had finished.

Finally, he dropped back into the chair with shoulders bent, and Ella could observe tears rolling down his weathered face.

There were no words left, none to be found between the two of them - and finally, Ashley suggested that they return to Tara before Wade returned from town so that they might be the first to hear his news. Thankfully for them, Victoria had elected to remain in town, retiring to her hotel room for the evening; even still, Rhett, Scarlett and Wade were seated round the dining room table, the talk churning like a tidal wave.

Adding insult to injury was the newspaper headline:

**Mr. Wilkes Arraigned**

**The coroner's jury, sitting on the body of Miss Kathleen Fontaine, having found a verdict against Beauregard E. Wilkes for felony murder of the deceased. Mr. Wilkes was arrested yesterday and arraigned before Magistrate Munro, who agreed that the order granting bail to Mr. Wilkes should be vacated.**

Rhett was livid, and brandished the paper like a rapier. "It's a damned farce, this whole bail business. As though Beau would try to jump it…"

"Hell, I'd risk my neck riding out for Texas rather than risk my neck in the hands of a Clayton County jury," Wade commented.

Ella thought that her mother looked unusually pale, her demeanor quiet and withdrawn. If she had treated Wade and his wife with grudging tolerance before the murder, her attitude had now shifted to one of outright suspicion and disdain.

Wade didn't seem to notice, because he continued. "I understand why he did it, though."

Ashley grimaced. "Wade -"

"Put yourself in his place," Wade continued, "I'm sure that the truth will come out when the time comes, in court, but I can imagine it now. He's engaged to Ella, prepared to start a new life with her, he says something to Kathleen that he shouldn't have said, makes some promise, perhaps even touches her breasts, as they're saying in town … He goes over there to announce his betrothal and she threatens to expose him, he panics and shoots her. You see, quite reasonable."

"Reasonable? Great balls of fire, Wade!" Scarlett snapped. "Perhaps with your quick temper but not Beau's even one."

"Love makes us do strange things," Wade shrugged. "Don't you agree, Rhett?"

"I think that we have quite a bit of the happenings of two nights ago to piece together," Rhett said cautiously. "For instance, I was not aware that Ella and Beauregard were engaged. Congratulations are in order then, Ella, albeit under the present difficult circumstances."

"I'm not engaged," she shook her head. "He did not ask me."

Ashley exchanged a glace with Wade, who looked irritated.

"His feelings for you were not a secret," Ashley said softly.

"He didn't ask," Ella repeated, feeling that something was being kept from her.

"He -" Ashley began, then was interrupted by Rhett, who interjected, "I'd let him do the asking, Ashley. And no, you don't need to be ashamed that this - misunderstanding - has occurred. My own father was rather ashamed of me, so I sympathize with Beau."

"I wasn't -"

"I know you hate to be talked about, Ashley, else you would have honed in on my wife during my long absence."

"Rhett, stop it," Scarlett snapped.

"Scarlett, I'm talking to Ashley, damn it. I've learned to be frank over the years and I must do so with him, now, Ashley. There are two sides to every story, but there is not necessarily a right or wrong side."

"I understand the expression, but I fail to see the relevance."

"Pity, I thought that you dealt in metaphors. Well, let me explain it. Who other than Beau himself knows the truth about the occurrences of that night? Who can defend his honor? Who, indeed. I have my suspicions, but I am not policeman."

"Well let's hear it, Rhett," Wade smirked. "I'm all ears."

"Certainly, Wade. I would simply pose the question of - who would benefit the most from Beauregard's downfall? Certainly Miss Kathleen would not, for she's dead and of no consequence anymore. You have any enemies, Ashley?"

"No, none."

"Ah, an honest man. Holy and honest. Scarlett, what do you think?"

"Rhett, isn't this exactly the sort of thing you warned us away from doing?"

"You misunderstood me, my pet - I believe that I urged us all to cease our idle gossip. Better surely to place our energy into exonerating Beauregard and unmasking the real killer - a person whom, I suspect, had no real quarrel with Miss Kathleen at all; she was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"My God, Rhett, you must have thought this out at length," Wade smiled. "You missed your calling, I think…what an inspector you would have made.'

Rhett responded with a wry grin of his own. "I'm merely attempting to sort out the truth from the cling and clatter. Of course, Wade Hampton, I'm an old man…what else am I supposed to do with my days?"

_**Author's Note – **_**Please review and share your thoughts! =) **


	12. Whatever It Takes

**12 **

**Whatever It Takes**

Rhett Butler lay still underneath the lace-edged canopy of the big bed, listening to the soft snores emitting from his wife's mouth as she slept. A small sound from elsewhere in the house convinced him that he was already fully awake. It was sometime close to dawn, and he realized with a trace of amusement that he was naked in between the clean sheets. Shifting to his right, his eyes moved over the slender form sleeping opposite him. Though her pert profile had aged somewhat, he thought her largely unchanged. It was beyond his ken how this could be, that after all the years that had passed between them, she could still look so very desirable.

Her eyes fluttered open. "I can't sleep while you're staring at me."

He wet his dry lips with the tip of his tongue and gave her a smile. "Why bother sleeping then, Mrs. Butler?"

She rolled over onto her stomach and faced him, brushing the tendrils of hair that had escaped from her nighttime braid back from her face. "Who can bear to sleep as it is? I don't understand it, Rhett. I just don't …"

"I've been thinking," he said, leaning back against his pillow. "…and I have several ideas which may be of benefit to Beau…"

Scarlett chuckled ruefully. "Well, he's going to need more than a few good ideas. We need to know what happened and we need to know it quick. Ashley says that the folks in town wouldn't say a word to him when he went yesterday - they're dead set against Beau - and they want to _hang_ him, Rhett!"

"I know, honey…I know. Well, whether Ashley knows it or not, he's been contributing to the problem by trying to apologize to the Fontaine's. The first rule of trial and procedure is to limit contact between the victim's family and the defendant's -"

"That's not how we would have done it in the old days-"

"No, there would have been a duel. Or a lynch mob."

"Ashley feels responsible for it, can't you see? And India is too cowardly to even show her face. Not that I expected her to stand by her own flesh and blood. She's always been one for looking to her own precious skin when anyone else is in trouble…Oh Rhett, you wouldn't like some breakfast, would you? Dilcey sent over some hot soup last night …wouldn't it be lovely with a little cornbread?"

He laughed, then admitted. "I suppose that I could stand some food. I could think better without listening to my stomach growl…"

"Do put on some clothes won't you, while I fix it? I'm not particularly keen about you gallivanting around the house with nothing on."

"I see," he feigned disapproval. "…and yet, Mrs. Butler, I am welcomed to my dishabille in the privacy of the bedroom, am I not?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Just do as I say, won't you?"

He pecked her lips with a small kiss. "As you wish, Mrs. Butler…"

The thick, hot white bean and ham soup was exactly what both of them needed, and was consumed quickly and with ravenous appreciation. Scarlett even ate heartily, cleaning her entire bowl in an inordinately short amount of time. When she stood up to clear the table, Rhett was reminded of his physical limitation by the piercing pain that stabbed through his bad leg when he shifted position in his chair.

"Does it still hurt?" Scarlett asked.

Rhett grimaced. "Not as bad as it did." He glanced about him. "How is Ella, do you think?"

Scarlett nodded, "I think she's as well as anyone could be, under the circumstances. Worried sick, you know. But she knows that the truth will come out and she's bound and determined to find out what really happened. She's completely, incandescently in love with him, Rhett - she won't rest until he's - What?"

His eyes flickered over her. "How much do you think she loves him?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean!"

"I mean only that someone had to benefit by Kathleen's death. If not Beau, then whom?"

"I don't like your implication -"

"Well, why the hell was Ella soaking wet when Wade brought her back from Twelve Oaks?"

"She was out in the storm - you heard her!"

"What if she went after Beau?"

"Cooper said -"

"I heard what Cooper said. A loose cow."

"_Cows_. Many cows."

"And an old man and a lady are fit to wrangle cattle? No, I think there was another reason behind this little round-up…"

"If you think for a minute that _Ella_ is behind this-"

"Hear me out, Scarlett - I'm just attempting to recreate the night as it happened. Let's just say that she leaves, along with Ashley. Sometime during those two hours, they're separated. Beau returns, and finds Ella on the south side of the property alone, correct?"

"Yes. The opposite direction as the Fontaine's -"

"Very good, Scarlett. You're catching on …now…who else is unaccounted for? We have Cooper, who was mending the fence - we know that, right? And then there's Ashley and Ella. Who does that leave in the house?"

"Dilcey and India."

"Right, right…Well, I think we can safely eliminate them from contention as our killer."

"Why?" Scarlett scoffed. "I wouldn't put anything past India."

"What is she capable of, Scarlett? Even you have to admit, very little."

Her eyes flickered over him, "You've been here for two months today. Did you know that? I must say, I had hoped that it would have come under a much different set of circumstances."

He chuckled wryly, "Since when have we been anything but an unconventional pair, Mrs. Butler?"

"Well, all I know is that it was quite improper of you to take over my bed - a gentlemen would never have taken a lady's bed -"

"And when have I ever claimed to be a gentleman?"

"Never. So I suppose the bad behavior is unsurprising."

"Ha. Well, I'm not so ill-bred as not to say thank you. It's the best I've slept for quite some time. Well - barring the pain in my leg. And my joints. And my back."

She laughed, then halted abruptly as she realized that he was speaking seriously.

"I'm getting old, Scarlett. I know what it is to be an old, old man. And I'm not running from it anymore. It's rather nice, you know, to sit out on a porch with one's wife- a wife who is aging along with me, albeit more gracefully."

"I'm much younger than you-"

"You're very kind to remind me."

"And you certainly waited long enough to come back."

"You must admit that's a turnabout," he smiled. "After all I was sure that it would end up the other way around, that you would continue to chase me until I had no more strength to resist. And then I'd die conveniently and leave you a happy, rich widow."

"You threatened often enough," she retorted.

"What I'm wondering," he changed the subject abruptly, "is if Kathleen tried to pull the gun on Beau - he denies her, turns to go - she goes into the house and locates the weapon, turns the gun on him and there was a struggle. Beau's too honorable to give the sheriff the whole story …"

"No. He wouldn't do that."

"He's a Wilkes-"

"He may be, but he would never take the fall for Kathleen. The girl was crazy as it was. More likely she took the gun and shot herself. There was all that business when she was a child and …"

"What?"

"It's not something generally spoken about in polite conversation-"

"Scarlett!"

"Alright, alright. Sally asked the doctor for some morphia to relieve the pain of her monthly courses…but Kathleen didn't stop there. And it was worse and worse until finally…they had to send her away. For a good six months, she was in Baltimore at a hospital."

"Damn. No wonder Beau was hesitant about being too harsh with her."

"He was very clear in his intentions," she corrected aloofly. "I was always very blunt with him when telling him how to handle her. And he was very - very clear." She put a hand to her mouth, and Rhett realized that she was about to cry.

He peered at her thoughtfully, wondering if she possessed the strength to hear his next supposition.

"Where was Wade that night?"

The green eyes snapped with fire. "He went after Ella. As well you know."

"What I'm asking you is why he bothered to go out in the storm when, as we all believed, she was safe with Beau at Twelve Oaks."

"Let me get this straight - you think that _Wade_ went over to the Fontaine's and killed Kathleen?"

"I'm just thinking aloud, Scarlett!"

"Well stop thinking!" she spat out. "Believe me, Rhett, I'm grateful for you concern, but you're not helping at this point."

He put a hand up to silence her and said in a low voice. "What the hell was that?"

She held her breath and strained to hear any noise. "It's probably Ella upstairs."

He shook his head and moved to the window. Scarlett followed. It was still dark out, but her eyes caught a movement in the shadows as something flitted along the edge of the woods.

"What's that?" she said aloud, "Look, Rhett!"

"I see," he said, his voice low, "I'm afraid we have company."

They pressed close to the window and watched until they had ascertained that it was indeed two men on horseback. The law? The question rose up in both of their minds though neither spoke.

Cautiously, she walked across the corridor from the kitchen to her office, where she had a holstered pistol stashed in her desk drawer.

"Just what do you think you're going to do with that?" he motioned toward the gun.

"Use it, if need be-"

"Give it to me."

"What for? You've already listed your infirmities - clearly you're in no condition to shoot it."

"And you know how to use it?"

"I've lived by myself for almost twenty years, haven't I?"

He rolled his eyes. "Touché, my dear. But now I've lost sight of our visitors -"

She gestured toward the window closest to the front door. As she walked behind him, covering his back with her readied pistol, a fleeting memory came back to haunt her, and she became dizzyingly aware of a time when she had to draw a weapon in defense of her home. And that time, she had not had the benefit of Rhett's calming presence by her side. She slipped an arm behind his waist. He wasn't young, and he wasn't all that strong - if something should happen.

"They're coming toward the house!" she cried with horror as the figures dismounted.

"They're going toward the …the barn? Why?"

"No, no - they're going round the back, Rhett! That's the back entrance to the house and - oh God! The cotton!"

He held her shoulders with his surprisingly strong hands to prevent her from charging out the door.

She hunched her shoulders and let out a choked cry of misery. "My cotton!"

"Scarlett, it's you and me and Ella and Pansy against two potentially armed men. And while those odds wouldn't generally bother me, my strength is not at its pinnacle and I-"

Scarlett smiled in spite of herself, "You're nearly seventy years old, Rhett."

He grimaced, but moved again toward the window as the pair emerged from the shadows of the back barn and down the front walk. One was shaking a clenched fist at the other in a threatening manner. Scarlett pressed closer to the window, continuing to watch. She felt her blood turn cold as the men turned back toward the house. She gasped aloud. "Rhett! They're coming!"

He attempted to grab the gun, "I'm going out there-"

"No!" she hissed back at him. "All you'll do is get yourself killed and then where will I be?"

"A rich widow?" he smiled, attempting a joke.

She flung herself into his arms, thinking in a moment of madness that if they were to be killed, at least they would be together - martyred in defense of Tara. Together they waited in breathless silence as the sounds of the deadbolt being tested reverberated throughout the house.

Scarlett heard a male voice: "The fucking bitch!"

And then another: "If you had done as I asked the first time, we would have never found ourselves in this situation."

Scarlett and Rhett exchanged wary glances. Both knew what the other was thinking - that the second voice was strangely familiar.

"You would never have thought of getting the whole County in an uproar over the murder had I not intervened. Cleaned up your mess for you!"

Rhett clamped a hand over Scarlett's mouth - as if she would have said a word.

They were obviously talking about Kathleen's murder, but who, if not for Beau -

"But you're running scared!"

"That's why we settle this. Now."

Scarlett held her breath as she and Rhett stared at the front foyer, expecting at any moment for the door to burst open and the offenders burst in, guns drawn. But there was only stillness- until finally, they could make out an odor of kerosene and smoke - thick, black clouds of which were seeping underneath the front door!

"My God!" Scarlett screamed. "They've set a fire! They meant to burn us up alive!"

"The back!" Rhett grabbed her hand, covering his mouth with his shirttail and urging her to do the same. "Ella!" he bellowed loudly. "Ella! Pansy!"

She could feel herself choking from the smoke, and groaned as she noticed that the dining room was already in flames. Pansy appeared at the top of the stairs, still wearing her nightgown. "Miz Scarlett!" Pansy screamed. "Wake Ella! Now, Pansy!" Scarlett could hear her voice carrying as her eyes darted worriedly around for Rhett, whom she had lost sight of. Where was he? Where had he gone? The black smoke completely engulfed the portal to the dining room. Her Parisian table, the portieres with their Brussels lace, Grandmother Solange's portrait…

Rhett caught her arm as she felt like to faint in the middle of the foyer and urged her to come on.

"Ella's up there!" she cried.

"God damn it!" he took two steps at a time, looking like a man half his age. Pansy was standing at the top of the stairwell again, holding in her arms a patchwork quilt and some small framed miniatures.

"Get down there, woman! Down! Scarlett, take her and go out the back door. Ella and I will follow. Go!" Rhett bellowed. "Ella! Ella!"

"Look, Miz Scarlett!" Pansy cried, "They done set fire ter the back porch, too! S'all gwine up in flames!"

"Let's try the back, Pansy, go!"

Pansy gratefully leaned on her mistress as they rounded the corridor and out the side door, fleeing toward the barn and not stopping until, in exhaustion, they collapsed in a pile of straw.

Scarlett set in rigid horror as she beheld the burning house, the whole front of which was completely covered with orange flames.

"Where's Miz Ella?" Pansy was sobbing, "Miz Ella ain't gwine wake up and hears him yell fire!"

"They're coming," Scarlett repeated, if only to keep herself from going crazy. "They're coming."

"Ah's see somethin' at the window, Miz Scarlett!" Pansy pointed. "Look!"

Scarlett followed her maid's finger to a side window, where suddenly, a bullet came whizzing through.

"Get down!" Scarlett commanded, throwing herself over Pansy and onto the hard ground. She peered up after a second to see something heavy fall through the broken glass, then a human form, finally followed by a second one, which was hobbling and apparently very near collapse.

Without thinking, Scarlett fled toward them - it was Ella and Rhett, faces scorched. Ella had his arm over her shoulder, and was supporting his weight. Her nightgown was missing a sizable portion, and her legs were visible from knees down.

"My gown caught fire," she explained tearfully, as soon as she reached the waiting arms of her mother. And Rhett had to step on it to put it out and the door was blocked so we had to go through the window! Oh Mother! Pansy!" she wrapped her arms around both women.

Rhett coughed as Scarlett nearly knocked him down with the exuberance of her embrace, "I'm sorry, Scarlett," he let out another loud cough, "I'm sorry I couldn't save Tara."

She shook her head, tears sliding down her face. "It's just a house. Tara's still here. It's still here. It's alright, darling."

Rhett's throat thickened and he kissed her forehead. "You realize what this means, don't you? This is about much more than Beau. In fact, I don't think it was about Beau or poor Miss Kathleen at all."

"What do you mean, Uncle Rhett?" Ella asked, trepidation heavy in her voice.

Scarlett lifted her red-rimmed eyes, and her lips trembled as she took a deep breath. "I think that he means that someone is out to get _you_."

"Me?"

Rhett took one last look at the inferno that was the house, then back at Ella. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this. And keep you safe. Whatever it takes. You have my promise."

"But Uncle Rhett -"

He nearly snarled: "_Whatever _it takes."


End file.
